#you remind her of her loss and how she should have been queen and in the same breath ask her to do the same to her cousin?

[ladygreene13]

Did they really think they could lock Rhaenys Targaryen Velaryon in a room and wait patiently until she bowed down to a psychopath as they usurped the throne from a woman who happened to be the rightful heir? AGAIN? When the last woman usurped was herself?

[moonlightazriel]

Love Sick ///Aemond X F!Reader

Summary: Alys Rivers had a vision about the prince’s arrivals, using her charm to lure him, she haven’t anticipated you, his new wife. So a little something might help him see who he truly belongs.

Warnings: SMUT

Word Count: 1,8K

Notes: I have read a lot of love potions fics and decided to give it a try. So here we are.

Main Masterlist

Alys Rivers always had visions, the flames would always tell her their secrets, this made it easier for her to survive. Yet, one vision kept appearing for her, a Targaryen Prince, dressed in his battle gears, long silvery hair tied to his back, a scar across his beautiful face.

She anticipated his arrival at Harrenhal way before it was even decided he should go. So when she heard the roar high in the skies, and saw the huge dragon landing in her home, she knew her time had come.

She had tended to him since he stepped his foot in Harrenhal, preparing his bath, serving his food, and occasionally flirting with him, she noticed how he looked at her, she was a pretty woman, long black hair and emerald green eyes, she was sure that it would just take a couple of days and he would fall for her.

Whoever, what Alys Rivers haven’t seen in her visions, was the Baratheon beauty arriving a week later. Lord Borros' third daughter, known for her breathtaking looks and even more impressive brain.

Lady Baratheon strolled through the front door, guards behind her as she walked through Harrenhal. And Alys watched with horror as the woman entered the dining room, giving a little smile to the Prince before slowly making her way towards him.

“Lord Husband.” She greeted, kissing his cheek and squeezing his shoulders, Aemond gave her a small nod and gestured for her to join him.

“How was your journey, my lady?” He inquired as the servers prepared her a plate, she politely thanked the maid before taking a piece of green bean with her fork.

“Quite exhausting, I am happy to finally settle down.” She bites her food. “Your dear mother was right, it feels good to be away from the Keep.” Aemond chuckled.

“Do not remind me of all that chaos.” She smiled at him, Alys kept in the corner watching the exchange in silent anger.

“Queen Helaena sent her greetings to you, my dear.” He held her hand.

“Did she talk to you?” Y/N nodded.

“Just a few words, but she seems better.” Helaena was still grieving the loss of her children in the hands of Daemon’s assassins.

“More wine, my Prince?” Alys intervened, her voice low and sensual, the prince turned his eyes to her, lifting his goblet. She could be his wife, but Alys knew what desire looked like, perhaps the prince just needed a little help.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

Prince Aemond was in his study room, book in hands as he took some time off. Alys knocked, hearing his powerful voice commanding her inside.

“I brought some tea, my prince.” She placed the mug with the hot tea on his desk.

A simple love potion, she knew that he had feelings for her, so this would simply amplify them, make them so unbearable that he wouldn’t have any other choice than to go looking for her. He would claim her as his, as it should’ve been.

Alys excused herself, going straight to her room in the servants wing, she needed to get ready for when Aemond Targaryen knocked on her door and took her in his arms.

She had cleaned her room, and then, took a long shower, rubbing a scented soap on her skin, making herself look flawless. She sat on the bed and waited for him.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

Y/N brushed her hair, Harrenhal was quite hot, so she asked the maid to run her a bath, she didn’t plan on leaving her chambers, so a silky nightgown covered her body while she took care of her hair.

The door was abruptly opened, making her jump in her seat. Her husband, without his coat and with four buttons of his linen shirt open, looked at her, a smirk on his lips as he entered the room.

“You know, dear wife?” He closed the door, walking towards her. “It was always you, when I went to Storm's End that day, it was you I had in mind.” His tone was slow, like he had been drinking.

He grabbed her hand, removing the brush and placing it on the desk. His other hand brushed her shoulder, pulling the straps down just a little.

“So beautiful, such a smooth skin. I know I had to have you.” He pulled her up, spinning her around until she was facing him, her hands splayed on his chest while he held her close by the waist. “You smell so good.” The prince said, smelling the skin of her neck.

Y/N felt her cheeks flushed at the attention, heating pooling in between her legs, forcing her to close them for some friction, as Aemond started to kiss her neck.

His touch was delicate, his lips cold against her hot skin. Kissing, licking and biting, making her whimper at the sensation spreading across her body.

“A-Aemond.” She half spoke half moaned, making the prince grow impossibly harder, his cock painfully restrained by his pants.

“You sound divine when you moan my name.” He said, getting away from her and walking towards the bed. He sat down, still looking at her, his shirt was messy and fully opened now. “Come here, my dear wife.” She made a move to walk to him but he stopped her. “Take it off.” He ordered.

She shivered as she saw the lust on his gaze, with shaking fingers, she undone the laces holding her nightgown in place, letting it pool at her feet, standing there completely bare to his hungry eye. His pink tongue darted out, wetting his lips as he eyed her up and down.

“You’re a goddess, I cannot wait to see you choke on my cock.” He grabbed her hand as she got close, pulling her straight to his lap. He kissed her, tongue exploring her mouth, hands cupping her ass.

She reached for the eyepatch, throwing across the room, she hated that damned thing, covering his beauty from her.

“You’re so beautiful, my prince.” She breathed, his lips attached to her breasts. Sucking the nipple in his mouth and moving his tongue in circles, making her squirm in his lap, brushing his hard cock.

He squeezed her flash, kissed her like he was going to die in the next second, and she moved her hips against his clothed cock, making it very hard to keep controlled. He never felt that kind of lust before, but he was ready to give in.

Y/N got up, and slowly kneeled in front of him, she had heard the ladies in court talking about the pleasures the mouth could bring to a husband, and despite the lack of experience, she wanted to try.

She reached for his belt, removing it and opening his pants, he lifted his hips just enough for her to slide all the pieces of clothes he was wearing down, freeing his dripping cock from its cage.

She swallowed hard, hesitantly grabbing it in her hands, earning a hiss from him. She moved her hand up and down, slowly, taking encouragement in his groans, the pleasure growing in him as she gently stroked him.

In a more bold move, she lowered her head, giving it a lick in the tip, Aemond shivering as she did so, she looked at him, giving him a small smile that could be the death of him. Then, she took him in her mouth, bobbing her head and masturbating what she couldn’t fit in her mouth. Aemond closed his eyes, buckling his hips and enjoying the sounds of her choking on his cock whenever she went too deep.

She hummed, sending vibrations down his cock, making his balls tight and the orgasm wash over him, his cock twitching, sending hot cum down her throat. She removed her mouth, coughing a little.

“You look so beautiful, kneeling in front of me.” He praised, his thumb caressing her cheek, making her blush as he looked at her. “Allow me.” He said, pulling her up and laying her down.

He got in between her legs, his breath fanning over her hot core, he circled the back of her legs, squeezing her skin and pulling her thighs apart. Smirking at her glistening cunt, he sank there, lapping at her folds, collecting all of her juice as she arched her back, moaning his name like a prayer.

He kissed her clit, rubbing circles with his tongue, making her see stars. Freeing one of his hands, he inserted two fingers inside her cunt, pumping them inside and out, in the same ruthless pace as his tongue. She moaned his name loudly enough to echo around the walls, feeling the knot in her belly grow until it was ready to snap. Driving her over the edge, her walls clenching around his fingers and closing her shaking legs around his head.

Aemond smirked against her, feeling her recover from her orgasm, he looked at her, sweat coating her forehead and panting, her chest moving up and down rapidly.

“Do you want more, my goddess?” She looked at him, smirking at her like the devil and she nodded. In a second, Aemond was on top of her, without any clothes and his cock ready for a second round.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

Alys tapped in the bed frame, growing restless as the potion should be working in this exact moment but Aemond was nowhere to be seen. She got up, grabbing a robe and sliding it over her shoulders.

She walked towards the Prince chambers, forcing the door open just a little, she gasped as she peeked inside.

Lady Baratheon was facing the door, her eyes closed and mouth slacked open as she moaned loudly for him. “Do not stop!” She begged, her voice hoarse from all the screaming.

She was on all fours, her ass high in the air as Prince Aemond pounded inside her from behind, moving so fast that her breasts bounced back and forth.

Alys wanted to move but she was rooted in place, the potion had clearly worked but with the wrong person.

“Please, Aemond. I am going to cum.” She whined, and the prince pulled her hair behind, forcing her to look at him.

“And i am going to stuff you full with my heirs, make you swell with my seed and birth my children.” His tone so raw that Alys felt her cheeks hot in embarrassment, Lady Baratheon moaned his name, her body convulsing as her orgasm crashed down on her again, followed by him spilling inside her.

Alys watched as the prince removed himself from inside her, his hands stuffing his cum back inside her cunt. “I love you.” He breathed, pulling her by the hair again and kissing her with all he had.

“I love you too.” She replied, face flush red as she tried to recover from the amazing sex.

Alys walked backwards, running away from the scene, knowing that no matter what she did, she could never break the bond the two shared.

[kay-jaye]

bit on the side?

bit on the side?

crowley doesn’t know what the fuck that even means. ok, yes, he’s familiar with the deluge of terms humans have concocted to define the complexity of their relations to each other.

side piece. sneaky link. friends with benefits. fuck buddies. situationship.

crowley knows what it means. he does. but when nina speaks the phrase to him, crowley can’t seem to recognize a single language, alive or otherwise dead, in which the words she says make sense. he briefly wonders if this is his version of aziraphale’s french.

because she’s talking about aziraphale.

aziraphale, the angel. the angel who likes his tea without sugar, but his wine with company. the angel who claims to have a distaste for “bebop,” yet crowley has caught him mouthing the words to queen’s “good old-fashioned lover boy” more than once in the bentley. the angel (bastard) who enjoys subjecting crowley to his magic act antics that under no circumstances would crowley ever admit to finding amusing or, satan forbid, endearing. the angel who popped into paris during the reign of terror because he got peckish for crepes, and even the threat of guillotine in that damp bastille cell could not deter him from baked goods in the end. the angel who still insists on dragging crowley to see productions of shakespeare, despite both being present for the original opening nights of almost every play the man wrote. the angel who is what heaven is supposed to be incarnate—pure and kind and too good for his own good, really.

and crowley is a demon.

he doesn’t think any of the typical labels apply. they’re not human, after all; it couldn’t be that simple. crowley can’t pinpoint exactly when it started or when it changed. 6,000 years is a long history to comb through. it was more than the acquiescence of two immortal beings to the familiarity of each other in a world full of temporary creations. it was more than a bloody arrangement at this point. crowley doesn’t know how it can be more than whatever it means to inhabit the other’s body and walk right into fatal danger, but they are. he’s inclined to cut his losses and say he knew—because deep down, he did know—he’s been fucked since eden and the damn wall and the damn rain he can’t help but associate with revelation.

other people’s love lives, nina had said. love lives. she’s projecting, crowley knows that. whatever’s going on with her and…lydia? linda? they say love makes you blind, but crowley would argue you see plenty of things. every passing glance between sips of champagne; every smile at the crisp sarcasm rolling off a forked tongue; every brush of fingers over the exchange of a briefcase full of books, the shaky grip on a tartan thermos, the drunken grab for another glass of wine across the table. silly things. things that aren’t there. for all the times aziraphale has implored him to read more, crowley swallows the urge to say he already reads into things more than he should.

he’s imagined it before; what it would be like to have more. a fair share of people have made assumptions about them in the past, though he’s not sure whether aziraphale has picked up on it, but that’s not why crowley suddenly feels as though armageddon is upon them once again. never has someone alluded to anything as…intimate as “hooking up.” crowley can brush away the implication that they’re together, but something screeches to a burning halt the moment nina insinuates what crowley’s only ever allowed himself to think about when he’s laudanum-level drunk and lonely because he has a greater chance of not remembering in the morning.

he remembers though. that’s usually when the guilt kicks in, when he’s hungover because he forgot to miracle the alcohol out of his system before passing out, and the headache pulses with the constant reminder that aziraphale is pure, pure, PURE. nothing he imagines on those nights is pure.

what gave him away? and if nina can see it, can aziraphale?

[lorhaghanima]

so, it finally happened. writers of the hotd finally destroyed everything good about it, any potential it once had, all for some kind of... agenda?

they were destroying greens slowly during the whole season two. aemond, being hateful and vengeful, but not towards ones, who deserve it (the blacks), no - to aegon, his brother, his king. aemond not having any interaction with alys rivers, instead of it the whole season and a potentially large part of their relationship was given to daemon - prophecies, visions, support in war, romantic implications. helaena, whose scene of great loss was cut, happened because of incompetence of writers royal guards (absolutely impossible for a setting), somehow her mother's affair (which is also impossible, since there's know way criston could be the only and personal protectpr of helaena and kids), and she was robbed of her burden (choice between sons) and her grieve (she is already unhappy most of the time, not cheerful, not beloved, and her loss doesn't haunt the narrative the way it should - the way it traumatized the whole family daeron who). aegon crippled not in battle and with glory, but by betrayal of his own brother (supposed to be his supporter), also deprived of his rightful grieve and anger, and even his dragon - the most beautiful, the most loyal, sunfyre, so important for the original story and our understanding, how strong and unbreakable this bond can be - erased to one scene. alicent - oh, my sweet alicent, i will remember the one, who could've been - the one we lose completely. alicent, who always loves and protected the monstrosity and beauty and destiny of motherhood and queenhood, what have they done to you? alicent, who stands in front of dragon, to protect aegon (at least try to protect him), alicent, who cuts her husband's beloved daughter and heir to the throne because all of the injustice done to aemond, alicent, who loves, loves, loves, her sweet daughter helaena (even in first part of season two she says - but what have they done to my daughter?). alicent, the actual queen, alicent, beloved by the smallfolk, alicent, respected by the council, alicent, loyal to her family to the core. where did you go, my beloved?

And to the worst part - all of this was done for one purpose - to remind us once again about this targaryen supremacy. that they are chosen ones, that they are supposed to save everyone, that they are gods, not men, and they will not be punished by the story, instead - they will be victimised, they will be martyred, they will be rewarded for cruelty. The blacks have only two options in season two - they are either absurdly boring (cause they can't have any flaws, and supposed to be heroic - that's why it safer to make them blank and dull), or they are chosen, special, destined - to rule westeros, to ride dragons, to get whatever they want. this, of course, are qualities of the right kind of targaryens - the blacks, the connected with daenerys ones, not the whole family, obviously. This is the reason, why rhaenyra has nothing to do with the death of a child, somehow goes to the king's Landing and tries negotiations with alicent, breaks up with not-so-perfect daemon, tames bronze fury just because she can, and acting incredibly passive most of the season. This is the reason, why we don't have nettles - girl of color, of unknown birth, younger and more beautiful, who tames the dragon using only her wits, survives the story, surpasses the tragedy. of course we don't have you, dear nettles - you are a mirror, where targaryen, mostly daemon and rhaenyra, were supposed to see their flaws.

I remind you, that hotd is supposed to be an interpretation of a very specific story. One where dragons dance and house targaryen falls. One where smallfolk kills the dragons, where dragons are monsters, destroying cities, and targaryens are false gods and precarious rulers. The cursed war - kin against kin. The narrative, where everyone is dead long before the beginning, everyone is doomed. It's not supposed to praise house targaryen, on the contrary - it says 'look, what they've done, look, what they do', 'look, how treacherous, flawed, hypocritical, unnatural, brutal, unreliable they ALL are, even to each other', and what is most important - 'look, they can be killed, look, they can fall, look the dragons and their riders bleed, and we can destroy them'.

and all of this potential, all of this greekish kind of tragedy, lost... and i have no idea, what for.

[delilah1990]

DUTY

PAIRING:  Rhaenyra x Northern! Reader

SUMMARY:  Y/N receives news that may affect the promise she made to the princess. Viserys finally announces who he will marry. His choice changes everything for Rhaenyra and her friends.

ADDITIONAL COMMENTS:  Alternate Universe. There will be slight Rhaenyra x Harwin Strong, Rhaenyra x Daemon Targaryen, and Northern! Reader x Cregan Stark.

WARNINGS:  Angst, character death, fluff, possessiveness, slight abuse, smut, and violence

WORD COUNT:  3,769

Part 3 of Fire and Ice

It’s been six months since Queen Aemma’s passing. And though Viserys named his daughter his heir, his small council encourages him still to take a second wife. Much to Rhaenyra’s ire. While there was a small part of her that understood her father had to take a second wife, she wasn’t ready to see another woman by his side.

Y/N wishes she could offer words of comfort to her friend. But she has no experience in what the princess is going through. She never knew her own mother, and her father never had to remarry. His wife had already bore him a son before dying.  

She’s pulled away from her thoughts with the sound of a knock at her door. Y/N grants whoever it is entrance, and a servant girl enters her room with a sealed letter in hand. Instantly recognizing her house’s sigil on the melted wax, she thanks the servant and dismisses her. As soon as the servant leaves, Y/N breaks the seal and reads the letter sent from her brother.

Sister,

I hope all is well for you in Kings Landing, and that both the king and princess are recovering from their loss. All is good here at home. Your niece is a force to be reckoned with. She’s walking about always giving the nurse maids the slip. She reminds me a bit of you when you were that age. Our father is growing rather impatient with my wife and me. He’s eager for a grandson, but we are heeding the Maesters advice and waiting a year before trying for a second.  

Speaking of which, there is something I feel you should know. As of now nothing is set in stone, but that could all change in an instant and when it does, I don’t want you to be caught off guard. Father has begun to receive marriage proposals for your hand. He hasn’t considered a match yet; I believe he is waiting to see if our future child will be a boy before deciding.

I pray it does not come to that, but you should prepare yourself. I look forward to your next letter, sister. Your brother, Rob.

Just as Y/N finishes reading the letter, there is another knock on her door before it opens to reveal Alicent. “I hope I’m not disturbing you. I’m heading to the Sept; Rhaenyra is coming with me. I thought you might like to come as well.”

“You know I do not worship the seven.” Y/N says as she folds the letter and places it under her sleeve. “And I hate going to the Sept, I feel as though I’m being judged every time I set foot there.”

“I was hoping you would come for Rhaenyra. It would seem she’s had a bit of a day and wishes to leave the Keep.” Alicent continues.

“She’s been having all sorts of days since her mother’s passing. There is only so much you I can do to remedy that. She must find a way to deal with what’s happening on her own.” Y/N says in a frustrated tone. Alicent immediately senses something is wrong.

“What’s happened?” She questions and Y/N waves her off. “Anytime Rhaenyra has needed us you are the first by her side, and now you speak of how she needs to figure things out on her own. That’s not like you, so I ask again Y/N. What’s happened?”

Y/N stands and approaches Alicent. “I will go with you to the Sept, but I will not enter.” Y/N makes a move to exit her chamber, but Alicent wraps a hand around her wrist to stop her. Taking a deep breath, Y/N turns to her friend in a more calming manner. “Nothing terrible has happened. I just received some unexpected news that I am currently processing. I just need time Alicent.”

“It sounds like you need a moment with your gods. Go, I’ll take care of Rhaenyra.” Alicent says in understanding. Y/N squeezes her hand in thanks and leaves for the Godswood.

Though the Godswood here is nothing compared to the ones at home, Y/N has found herself growing use to this one. She kneels before the great tree and bows her head.

She always knew her father would marry her off someday, it was the only way he could ever be rid of her. But when he agreed to leave her here to serve the princess, Y/N had thought perhaps he would forgo marrying her off. She shakes her head at herself for having such foolish thoughts. Rhaenyra will be angry. I promised her I’d always be there for her. It’ll be hard to keep that promise once I move away from King’s Landing. Y/N thinks to herself.

The crunching of leaves interrupts her inner thoughts, she turns and spots the king approaching her. She stands to curtsy, but he raises his hand. “Forgive me, Lady Y/N. I did not mean to interrupt your prayer.”

“You didn’t your grace. I was thinking more than I was praying.” Y/N admits.

“I wanted to get your opinion on something.” Viserys says almost nervously.

“I’m not sure what opinion I could offer your grace.”

“It’s about Rhaenyra. She doesn’t speak much, at least to me anyway. I’ve been told I should probably go to her, that if I did, she would open herself up to me. What do you think?”

Y/N is unsure what she should say to the king. Normally she would just be honest and speak her mind, but she did not want to risk offending the king. Sensing her inner struggle Viserys reassures her. “Please speak freely. Northerns are known for their honesty, and that is what I need right now.”

“I think you both need to open yourselves up to each other. You share the same pain, yet instead of coming together, you’re distancing yourselves.” Viserys hums at this. “You both just need to speak with one another. Talking often goes a long way.”

“Thank you, Lady Y/N., That is wise advice.” Viserys says grateful.

“Happy to help your grace.” He gives her a small smile before departing the Godswood. Y/N turns around and places a hand over the face in the middle of the trunk. She closes her eyes and attempts to actually pray this time.  

After spending a couple of hours at the Godswood, Y/N heads back to her chamber, where she runs into Alicent. “How was the Sept?”

“Good, I think it helped the princess a bit.” Alicent responds.

“That’s good, I’ll check in with her tomorrow…I’m sorry for my behavior earlier.” Y/N apologizes.

“Have you sorted it out yet?” Alicent asks.

“Not quite.” Y/N answers honestly. Alicent takes hold of both her hands.

“Whatever it is that is plaguing you, you do not have to suffer it alone. I am here for you, and though she has a lot going on, I know Rhaenyra will be there for you too.” Y/N pulls Alicent into a hug in thanks and bids her goodnight. Perhaps by morning she’d be more open to speaking with her friends. For now, she still needs time to herself.

The next morning Y/N decides to seek Rhaenyra out. She knows she won’t be able to keep to herself much longer. She walks around the Red Keep until she hears two familiar voices speaking. As she walks closer towards them, she realizes the voices belong to Rhaenyra and Rhaenys. “I did not ask for a lesson in politics. I asked whether this bothers you.” Y/N hears Rhaenys say.

“Laena is your daughter, Princess. Does it bother you?”

“Of course it does. But I understand the order of things. I’m not sure you do.”

Laena must be a potential candidate to be the king’s wife. Y/N realizes.

“If you mean to elicit some anger from me, you should know that you’re failing, Princess.”

“Quite the opposite. Whether it’s to my daughter or to someone else’s, your father will remarry sooner than late. His new wife will produce new heirs, and chances are, better than not, that one of those will be male. And when that boy comes of age and your father has passed, the men of the realm will expect him to be heir, not you. Because that is the order of things.”

“When I’m Queen, I will create a new order.” Rhaenys chuckles softly.

“How I wish that could be, Rhaenyra. But the men of the realm already had their opportunity to appoint a ruling queen at the Great Council and they denied it.”

“They denied you, Princess Rhaenys. “The Queen Who Never Was.” But they bent the knee to me and called me heir to the throne.”

“Do you remind your father’s men of that as you carry their cups? Here is the hard truth, which no one else has the heart to tell you. Men would sooner put the realm to the torch than see a woman ascend the Iron Throne. And your father is no fool.”

As soon as she hears footsteps walking away, Y/N steps out from her hiding spot. Luckily for her it was Rhaenys who walked off and not Rhaenyra. “Did you hear all that?” The princess questions.

“Some of it, yes.” Y/N answers as she leans across the rail facing the royal garden.

“Do you think she’s right?” Rhaenyra questions.

“I think that we both know she is.” Rhaenyra joins her at the railing. She clasps both her hands and lays her head on top of them.

“I made a suggestion to the council yesterday, a good one I thought, and they looked at me as if I was a dragon flying without a head. When I tried to give my father further insight at dinner, he dismissed me. How can I get him to listen to me, to see me as his heir and not is little girl?”

“You want your father to see you as his heir, then you need to start acting like it.” Rhaenyra looks at her, confused by her statement. “Your father is the King, and every king needs a Queen.”

“I know that.”

“You may know that, but you’ve yet to accept it. Why do you think your father hasn’t chosen a bride yet?” Rhaenyra begins to consider her words. Y/N cups her cheeks in her hands and lifts her face up to look at her. “Your father has to marry, just as you will someday soon.” The princess closes her eyes and leans into Y/N’s touch. “If you cannot accept his duty to the realm, how is he to accept you as his heir?”

“And what of the council?” Rhaenyra questions as she opens her eyes.

“First, stop filling their cups. That is the job for a cup bearer, not the heir. Second, remind the council that you are no ordinary princess, you are a dragon. And dragons don’t take shit from sheep, they eat them.”

Rhaenyra can’t help but laugh at Y/N’s statement. As soon as her laughter dies down, she turns back to face the royal garden. There is a moment of comfortable silence between them before Rhaenyra turns to her friend. Alicent had mentioned the day before that Y/N had received unexpected news and that she needed time to herself.

She didn’t mind granting her friend that. Y/N has always been there for her whenever she needed, but now it’s her friend that is in need, and Rhaenyra wants to be there for her. “I can feel you staring princess.” Y/N turns to her with an amused look.

“Alicent mentioned there was something going on with you.” Rhaenyra simply states, and Y/N knows she won’t be able to keep the news to herself.” She reaches for the letter she’s been carrying around and hands it to the princess. “I must warn you; you will not like it.”

Rhaenyra takes the parchment and unfolds it. She smiles at first, but as she reads further her smile begins to fade and is soon replaced by a frown. She hands the letter back to Y/N and considers every word.

“I could speak with my father, maybe he…” Y/N interrupts before Rhaenyra can finish.

“He will not interfere, not with this.” Rhaenyra shakes her head and then considers something else.

“Even if you do marry and produce a son, that son would be heir to your husband, not your father.” The princess points out.

“If I am able to produce a son, then I can produce another. If my brother does not have a son of his own by then, my second son would be his heir.” Rhaenyra lets out a sigh of defeat. “There’s still time, I’m not leaving anytime soon.” Y/N says in comfort.

“No, but you could. Even if your brother manages a son, it’ll only delay the inevitable. Eventually, you will have to marry.” Y/N doesn’t say anything, she knows Rhaenyra is right. She leans her elbows against the rail, and Rhaenyra joins her. Placing her head on her shoulder, while Y/N leans her head on top of hers.  

Later that evening, in Y/N’s chamber, she lies in the tub reading her brother’s letter again. She knows wither her brother has a son or not, she will eventually marry. Letting out a heavy sigh, she stands from the tub and dries herself off. Once in her nightgown, she sits at her desk and writes a response letter.

Dear Brother,

It gladdens me to know that my niece is taking after me. When she comes of age, I’ll have to teach her the bow and arrow.

As for my possible future betrothal, I thank you for your warning. When you send your next letter, I ask that you include what suitor’s father is considering, that way I can thoroughly prepare myself.

Give my good sister my best and give my niece a kiss from me. Love your sister, Y/N.

Y/N roles the small parchment paper and melts wax to seal it. Just as stamps her family sigil over the wax, Rhaenyra enters her room with a burst of energy. “I did it, I did it!”

“What did you do that couldn’t wait until morning?” Y/N asks.

Rhaenyra sits on the long couch in the center of the room and pats down the spot next to her. Y/N sits next to her and gives the princess her full attention. “So, shortly after our talk, an emergency council meeting was called. Daemon apparently stole the dragon egg meant to be my brother’s, fled to Dragonstone with a whore, and took most of the City Watch with him.”

Y/N is speechless at first, until her mind processes what the princess just told her. “And how exactly do you fit into all that?”

“My father sent Otto to confront my uncle and bring back the dragon egg. I knew Otto would not be able to retrieve it, and that there would be bloodshed. Daemon and Otto despise each other.” Y/N nods along in agreement. “So, I got on Syrax and flew to Dragonstone. Confronted my uncle and safely retrieved the egg.”

“That’s quite impressive.” Y/N comments.

“That’s not all. My father found out and summoned me. He scolded me at first, but once he realized I went to Dragonstone and retrieved the egg without bloodshed. He calmed down. And we spoke, actually spoke. We talked of my mother, and how her death affected us both. About how he must now take a new wife.”

“And what about your status as heir?” Y/N questions.

“He has no intention as replacing me as heir, even if his new wife gives him a boy.” Rhaenyra answers with a smile.

“That’s good, that’s really good.” Y/N says, happy for her friend.

“I think he intends on marrying my cousin, Laena Valaryon, he makes his announcement tomorrow. Will you come with me to the small council?”

“Is that allowed?” Y/N questions. She had never been to a small council meeting, much less been inside the small council chamber.

“You will be accompanying the heir to the iron throne, of course it’s allowed. Alicent will be there as well.”

“Then it will be my honor.” Rhaenyra smiles at Y/N’s answer and stands to leave but a thought enters her mind. Something she had been thinking about on the flight back to Kings Landing.

“As for the matter of your possible betrothal…I’ve decided that no matter how far North you move, you’ll only ever be a dragon ride away from Kings Landing.” Y/N smiles widely at this and nods in agreement. “I’ll see you in the morning.” Rhaenyra then places a kiss on Y/N’s cheek and exits her room with a satisfied grin on her face. Y/N’s face on the other hand, is bright red.

Inside the council room the next morning, Visery’s is the first one to arrive. He’s looking out the window, hoping his announcement will go smoothly. He already knows not everyone will agree with his decision, but he knows his choice is what’s good for the realm and himself.

At the sound of the council doors opening, he turns to greet his council members. His daughter is also present, along with her friend lady Y/N who stands beside her. He also notices lady Alicent has entered the council chamber with her father.  

“Good morrow, my lords.” Viserys greets, and they each greet him back. “I have decided to take a new wife.” He looks over at his daughter, ensuring she will be ok with this. She gives him a small smile and a nod of approval. “I intend to marry…” He looks over at Alicent, when she realizes he intends to choose her as his next wife, she has a shocked look on her face. “The lady Alicent Hightower, before springs end.”

With exception to Alicent, Corlys, Rhaenyra, and Y/N. Everyone else seems to be happy about the outcome. Corlys slowly rises from his seat and looks the king in the eye. “This is an absurdity. My house is Valyrian, the greatest power in the realm.”

“And I am your king.” Viserys points out. Unable to remain in the room any longer, Rhaenyra exits the chamber. She had accepted the fact that her father would remarry, but she had not realized he had intended on marrying her childhood friend. “Rhaenyra.” Visery’s calls after her, but she ignores her. Alicent and Y/N quickly run after her, following her into the Godswood. The moment Rhaenyra sees Alicent, her blood boils.

“How long?” Alicent only looks at her. “How long have you hidden this from me?” Rhaenyra asks again. It’s hard for Alicent to admit, but she knows she has no other choice but to tell the truth.

“My father sent me to console him. After your mother…” Y/N turns to Alicent in shock. Alicent had been secretly meeting with the king since the queen’s death. Rhaenyra realizes this as well; she also confirms Y/N had no knowledge of Alicent’s secret meeting with her father. While she is thankful, it doesn’t alleviate her anger at Alicent.

“Whore.” Rhaenyra accuses, Y/N immediately turns towards the princess.

“Rhaenyra.” Y/N scolds but is ignored.

“You seduced him.” The princess continues with her accusation.

“No…we only talked…about history, about your mother and mine, about you…never about a marriage.” Alicent says in defense of herself.

“You were seeing him in his chambers. What did you think would happen?” Rhaenyra retorts.

“It was at my father’s command.” Alicent says weakly, only fueling Rhaenyra’s rage.

“You should have refused him!” The princess shouts.

“That is enough. This is not a conversation to be had out here. Let us take a moment…” Y/N’s attempt to calm everyone down, and move the conversation elsewhere is interrupted by Alicent.

“Not all of us have such an easy way doing only what we wish, only when we wish it.” Alicent snaps back, instantly regretting it. “I had no choice.” She says meekly.

Rhaenyra’s emotions alternate between anger, accusation, and hurt. “They cannot do this. I am the Princess of the Seven Kingdoms, the Realms Delight, Heir to the Iron Throne. I shall annul it…” Rhaenyra stops when she realizes her friend is silent, that she has made no real protest. “Is this what you want?”

“It doesn’t matter what I want.” Alicent says in defeat as she turns from her friends and walks away. When Alicent is out of sight, Y/N turns to Rhaenyra, who has her head turned away and her hands wrapped around herself.

“You should go to your room princess.” Y/N suggests.

“Will you be joining me?” Rhaenyra questions.

“I need to check on Alicent first, then I will stop by your room.” Rhaenyra scoffs at her. Y/N approaches the princess and places a hand on her shoulder. “She could not refuse her father Rhaenyra, just as I can’t. And deep down beneath your anger, you know that.” Rhaenyra does not acknowledge her, she simply heads to her room, but Y/N knows the princess agrees. Even if she won’t admit it out loud.

She heads inside the Keep, towards Alicent’s chambers and knocks on her door. There is no answer. “It’s me Alicent.” She does not hear a response. Y/N begins to think she may have gone to her father’s chamber, but then hears Alicent softly call to her. She enters her room and sees her friend sitting on the long couch. Eyes read, and face stained with tears. Y/N immediately sits beside her and pulls her into a hug.

“She hates me.” Alicent sobs.

“She doesn’t hate you, but it will take her a while to get over this.” Y/N says honestly. The two girls sit in silence. Y/N continues to hold on to Alicent as tears continue to fall down her face. She has terrible feeling their friendship may not last, and that the worst has yet to come.

***Here is part three of Fire and Ice. It’s a little bit shorter than the first two, hope you still enjoy it anyway. Thank you for all the likes so far, it motivates me to write more. Please feel free to comment as well. I’d love to hear your opinions on the story so far.***

[sky-kiss]

Okay hear me out. This isn't exactly a request unless...👀

But the Raphael x Tav dynamic where he is the only one who can poke fun or give them a hard time is eating my brain.

Like "I can call them a vapid little fool, but if anyone else does the exact same thing it's hellfire and brimstone for them. For a hundred years."

He'd call it affection if it was in his vocabulary.

A/n: This is short, but I’ve been doing a lot of Carrot!Raph and not a lot of Stick!Raph. Some gore and torture ahead. XD Also I don't think this is what you wanted RIP.

__________

“All this caterwauling! You should really feel blessed, little lamb! I rarely sully my hands these days.” Raphael folded his hands at the small of his back. Isolated from the scene around him, the devil would have appeared perfectly genteel: his doublet remained pressed, hair immaculate. Only the eyes were different, violently bright in the prison’s omnipresent gloom. 

Souls and prisoners howled around them, some in agony, some in a desperate attempt to catch the Master’s attention. He didn’t hear; only his guest mattered. 

The cambion stopped, lingering just outside their field of vision. They’d finally stopped screaming, lapsing into hiccuping sobs, slumped in on themselves. Not his finest work, he’d be the first to admit, but the rage had come upon him too abruptly for a more cerebral punishment. He reached out, fisting his hand in the sweaty mass of their hair, and tugged their head back. Terror flooded their eyes; their mouth tried to curl back in horror but failed to manage it. His claws left the cheek a ruin of tissue. He tapped a nail against the wound. They knew better than to twitch away. 

“Remind me why I’m entertaining you, little one.” 

It took three attempts before they could finally choke the word out: “Duchess.” 

“Ah, yes. How forgetful! You will have to forgive the indiscretion.” Raphael stepped closer. He’d made quite a mess, honestly. Bones jutted from strange, haphazard angles; he’d removed a few in a fit of pique. He didn’t believe they were essential, but it was always so difficult to tell with mortals. He yanked, and the little thing screamed their anguish. “And what was it you said? Be specific; your life depends on it.” 

“W…whore. Whore queen. Raph…” they winced. The mouth couldn't form the words, an ever-increasing disconnect between the body and brain as blood loss took its toll. “Your cunt.” 

“An inelegant summation.” He wiped his hand on the thing’s shoulders, glancing across the chamber. “Care to vouch for them, duchess?” 

His pet chuckled. What a sight! His finest treasure, her gown set with gems, gold chains hanging about her horns. He had created art with her. “It is they say, my duke.” 

“And that bodes well for you, little one.” Raphael knelt beside them, stroking hair back from their face. They turned their face into the motion, an awful pantomime of intimacy. “Though…perhaps not as well as you might have hoped. I guard my treasures so zealously, and she is first among them. You understand, don’t you?” 

They nodded, miserable. 

“But I am not without mercy. Should you apologize to her…we could start fresh. Would you like that, little one?” He pitched his voice lower, speaking as if in conspiracy. Two friends, ready to make peace. They released a shuddering breath and nodded. Raphael held out his arm to his duchess. She came to him with vibrant eyes and a smile, a pretty reflection of all he’d accomplished. His conquest, his might, his pretty love. “Begin, wretch.” 

“Beg…beg forgiveness, dutchess. Please…gods, please, forgive us…” 

His duchess hummed. “You are forgiven, wretch.” And to Raphael, “My love, must you play with your food? Are you nearly finished?” 

“Very nearly, little mouse. First,” he withdrew a vial from his doublet, a draught of restorative waters. He held it to his guest's lips. Like magic, flesh mended itself! Wounds shrunk and disappeared! In a matter of moments, they were whole once more.

“Merciful King, kind lord,” they sobbed, crawling towards him. The wretch painted the toe of his boot with kisses. “Never again. Not a word against you or the lady will pass my lips.” 

“No. I imagine not.” He nudged their ribs with his boots. “Alas, our fresh start will have to wait. My duchess requires me.” The imps crawled forward, hungry and eager. “I leave you in my staff’s ever-capable hands.” 

[fumifooms]

Do you think maybe a large part also of why Chilchuck's wife left him was because of how much he changed after becoming an adventurer? He seemed naive and spirited once, but became more jaded the more dungeon crawling he did. I like to think with the new image of his wife that Flertom and Puckpatti's cheerful demeanor came from how Chilchuck was once as a child. But she accepted that people change. And yet that night, meeting how he is with his coworkers, reminds her of how he used to be.

Yes I do! I go into it in my masterpost on Chilchuck’s family, though I made it before we got his wife’s face reveal. If you want to see my thoughts on what things might have pushed her to leave I recommend you go to the ‘Possible strains on the marriage’ section!

Ooh I like your thoughts! Flertom and Puckpatti inheriting good cheer from him would be soo cute (it’d also be funny with how he’s like "Meijack, my daughter most like me" meanwhile the ones with the opposite of her personality got it from him. Sike Meijack’s like her mom the most lmao), but for Puckpatti at least I’m skeptical.

Chilchuck likes good cheer out of work sure, but he dislikes optimism/carefreeness. It makes him worry on if they can take care of themselves or if they’ll be able to make it (in part due to how he was himself tricked by parties in the past), so I’ve theorized that Puckpatti’s carefree demeanor is actually an effect of Chilchuck working out of home more and more as the years go by, and thus having the least of an influence on his youngest child, leaving his wife to do most of the raising and teaching lessons.

I don’t know what to make of his wife’s portrait yet, she does seem pretty jaded herself, or like she has a lot on her mind. Since it’s supposedly set into the present of canon, it could just be that she’s still affected and upset by having left him… Or maybe that’s just how she is! Maybe Chilchuck rubbed off on her too, or maybe she grew that way more over the years by herself, or maybe she’s always been a little gloomy/ice queen looking, no clue! I don’t think trying to take away a lot of her personality from just the portrait would be effective or wise, but now I do think she’s the more reserved and serious type.

"Yet that night, meeting how he is with his coworkers, reminds her of how he used to be" Asker I looooove this, you’re so right!! That could definitely be part of it, I hadn’t seen that angle. He’s very cheerful and open when sharing drinks with people as we see, so it’s possible she’s like "Wow, he’s having such a good time here with his coworkers. Why isn’t he usually like that with me?" plus just being hit with a ton of bricks of realization that that part of him was why she loved him, but he’s changed so much so maybe they should cut their losses and part away. And especially since they were childhood friends, too! 20 years sure do change a man. Chilchuck does say she fell into a bad mood after the outing on the way back home but didn’t know why, so there’s a lot of thoughts and feelings we can assign to her. Again, I encourage you to read my big post on it if it interests you, I give many different interpretations and whatnot~!

[sunfyre-targaryen]

HOUSE OF THE DRAGON S2E8

i finally managed to rewatch the episode and here is again my personal opinion about it.

essos: again they want the stepstones, those damned rocks. the stepstones are like the harrenhal of the sea: everybody wants it, but nobody manages to keep it for a long time without dying painfully.

sharako lohar is really cool. kinda looks like daario naharis (the first one).

aemond burning sharp point because he was angry about rhaenyra's new dragonriders. sir, you have too many problems.

my poor king aegon. he asking himself what was the point of all of this now that rhaenyra managed to have more dragons to her side. and larys wanting to help him is kinda heartwarming but also creepy as fuck at the same time.

rhaena starving and dehydrating herself for a dragon instead of taking care of the future of house targaryen. as i said previously, this obsession reminds me of little aemond (before he became a completely menace to society).

jace beefing with ulf. he is angry with the dragonseeds and he wants to prove them that they are not like every trueborn targaryens. well, ulf jests too much about it in my opinion. seeing hugh and ulf going out of the room together, foreshadowing iykyk.

rhaenyra and corlys. he sees what she cannot, just like rhaenys, he's a good hand of the queen. when they mentioned dreamfyre, my heart melts because she's one of my favourite dragons. finally, corlys saying that his ship's name is "the queen who never was" and then we see the boleyn which pictures rhaenys holding the crown...such an heartbreaking moment.

daemon and ser alfred. daemon has already decided to let the crown go and follow rhaenyra as we understand it from his last vision when he didn't take the crown from his brother. i adored how he looks at ser alfred since we all know how he hates traitors and the details of ser alfred hearing "traitor" whispered was perfect. let us all appreciate again ser simon "no treason on my watch" strong.

alicent and helaena. it's heartbreaking. she really loves her daughter and now that alicent does not have power anymore, she fears for her life. i loved the scenes we had between alicent and helaena a lot.

AEMOND HOW FUCKING DARE YOU. your sister is an innocent and plus she is still the queen, as your mother kindly reminded you. i have to say, dear alicent, that you should have behaved like this with him before he became a fucking problem to everyone. i loved that when he looks again at helaena, alicent raises her voice to him "NOT LIKE THIS"

ser criston cole, i despise alicent for saving your life that night. "she is my beacon", it reminds of the hightower's sigil, i adore this detail. i fucking love gwayne. "then resist it", ser gwayne slaytower, the man you are. last but not least, dear ser crispy you should have imagined that a war with dragons would have been a thousand times worse than the wars you saw in your life.

jacaerys targaryen, the pout of the realm. btw, baela and jace the supreme couple of westeros.

rhaenyra at dinner with the dragonseeds. addam answering to ulf that there will be a time to show who of them is really a coward (iykyk). addam of hull, the man you are. i adored the fact that rhaenyra chooses him to go with her to harrenhal.

daemon's vision. i adored it. bloodraven, the white walkers, the death of dragons and daemon's death which also represent the loss of power of house targaryen and then the red comet and daenerys, the rebirth of house targaryen. AND HELAENA.

i hope that in season 3 we'll have a further explanation of helaena's powers and what she can do, because in that scene it's clear that she entered the vision somehow. infact, we also see her kinda smiling after it. (again, foreshadowing: she's standing on a balcony, iykyk).

helaena and aemond. he still tries to convince her to go to war with dreamfyre. she answering back at him that she knows everything and that she saw everything, she does not speak in riddles anymore, she's clear as fuck, and those words hurt aemond like a knife. "aegon will be king again. he's yet to see victory [...] and you'll be dead". and when he threatens her, she says that it wouldn't change anything. he is scared now, he knows how it will end and everything he has done for glory will only bring him into the void.

rhaenyra and daemon at harrenhal. i'm glad to hear them speak in high valyrian to each other once again, kinda missed it. daemon's speech was just amazing and pure perfection.

alyn is angry as fuck and he has all the rights to be it. when he said to corlys that he remembers them now only after the death of his children was like a slap in the face for corlys. the best part was alyn saying that if he survives this war, he will continue to live his life as it was before.

mysaria and rhaenyra. "and who pays the price?" and mysaria looking at the dragons.

alicent and rhaenyra. probably my favourite scene. alicent wearing a light blue dress as she used to do when she and rhaenyra were close friends. we can see that now they inverted their roles: alicent who tries to get close to rhaenyra while rhaenyra is cold towards her, as it was after alicent wore the green dress the first time. another detail that i appreciated is when alicent says "i lost my way", another reminder to her house since their motto is "we light the way", now she is lost and alone, she feels like a nobody, she cannot count on her house and family anymore. when rhaenyra says "still, you defend him" OF COURSE SHE IS, despite everything aegon is her son, her first son. THIS IS NOT BOOK ALICENT, as i said previously, i understand this development but i would have liked to see a bit more of book alicent. rhaenyra: "a son for son", what about what helaena have endured? did we forget about jaehaerys?. rhaenyra: "history will paint you a villan. cold queen [...]", alicent: "let them think what they must. i have at last myself [...]", i loved this. they still love and care for each other somehow, when alicent asked rhaenyra to go with her it reminded me of young rhaenyra telling young alicent that she wanted to fly with her on dragonback, see the great wonders across the narrow sea and eat only cake.

seeing everybody getting ready for what they must do kinda makes me feel anxious for season 3 even if i know what happens.

TESSARION. GLAD TO SEE YOU, MY DEAR.

i am not ready for the battle of the gullet and for tumbleton. but at the same time i cannot wait to see the battle above the gods' eye.

finally rhaena found sheepstealer.

otto in a cage, this is larys' hand FOR SURE.

aegon fleeing from KL. cannot wait to see him in season 3. he's yet to see victory.

THE FINAL SOUNDTRACK ABSOLUTELY BEAUTIFUL, AMAZING.

the end: alicent is free. rhaenyra holds all the weight of history on her shoulders.

now we have to wait two years for the most brutal part of the story.

if you want to share your thoughts or talk about it, send a raven! 💌

[readychilledwine]

The Bard

Summary - Sometimes, it's fun to romanticize someone one else's life.

Warnings- None

Baby daddy note - I made Lizzy post this. She wrote it for fun. I felt it should still be shared.

A/n - May delete later

Masterlist

This world was nothing like the ones she had ever been in. Tall buildings stood in place of trees, hard stone lined the ground cutting and cracking her bare feet with each step. She jumped back as a car hit a puddle, preventing it from splashing her.

Checking her pockets, she sent a silent thank you for the currency hiding there. A sign from her Gods that they were indeed watching. She studied what she slowly realized was her new identification before checking the streets to see if she could navigate through where she was.

She was younger in this world. Barely 16, and for some off reason, blonde. Perhaps it was to remind her of who she was, of who she belonged to, but the reminder hurt none the less.

On further inspection, she realized this world wasn't so different from the last she was in. Just different methods of the same things. Buildings touched the clouds, technology pinged and flashed before her, and modern clothing covered the bodies of everyone around her. She paused at the sight of a bus, seeing that it read the street name of her new home on it before getting on and paying the toll in a shining silver coin.

The previous world came back to her slowly, as all memories did when she jumped. It had been a hard battle, one she suspected could not truly be over with how easily it had ended and begun.

The more she looked, the more similar this word seemed. It just lacked the magic.

She kept to herself, avoiding the gazes of humans too caught up in themselves to even truly look at her. She listened to them, hoping to find the hero she was destined to follow into battle, whose song she would sing in local bars. That was her job, of course. In every lifetime, in every world, she was a Bard. Collecting the stories of heros and their foes, playing them before a laughing crowd.

She followed countless warriors to their deaths, queens to their thrones, and kingdoms to their salvation. She was exhausted, heart aching from the most recent loss. She sighed as she got off the bus, quickly figuring out the house numbers before finding her own.

Pictures sat on the wall of her with her family. Faces that would know her, but she was going to hardly remember. Memories would have been planted into her brain, ensuring her safety as they always were.

She allowed them to guide her now, pulling her through the house until she was met with a door decored in pictures of her with friends. It did make her laugh how each world allowed her to follow a pattern. A group of women. All shining stars in their own rights. All with stories that needed to be told.

She stepped into the room, studying the furniture and shrugging off the rain-soaked clothing. A box sat on her desk, unopened and sparkling. She pulled on warm clothing before walking to it.

White ribbon, so pure and untouched, wrapped about a brown box and an envelope. She opened the envelope first, smiling at the familiarity of the handwriting in an unknown place.

My dearest Bard,

You have no hero in this world. No story to memorize. In this world, you are free to grow and live as you please. Find your own adventure, your own legendary love.

This is our thank you. A new beginning for your humble service. Just never forget who you are. When you miss home, simply look to the stars and wish.

She wiped the tears falling from her face before opening the box. Line paper sat with pencils and pens, just waiting for her to write. And so she did. She would tell the stories of the worlds she had been in one last time.

"Once upon a time,” she wrote, smiling as she did, even if the story started out of order, "in a land long since burned to ash, there lived a young princess who loved her kingdom very much.”

General Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanagers @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr @eternallyelvish @azrielsmate3 @daughterofthemoons-stuff @meritxellao @aria-chikage @hungryforbatboys @lilah-asteria @fandomrejects

[runesandramblings]

Violent Delights

Word Count: 6200

Pairings: Kili x reader

Warnings: Unhappy arranged marriage but nothing violent or abusive

Description: A forbidden romance blossoms between King Thranduil's arranged bride to be and the Prince of Erebor. (Loosely inspired by Romeo & Juliet without the death part.)

Will make a part 2 if you guys want it. :)

These violent delights have violent ends

And in their triumph die, like fire and powder,

Which as they kiss consume.

The breeze felt wonderful against your skin after being indoors for so long. You inhaled deeply, allowing the fresh scent of the forest to fill your lungs as you relished in the sounds around you. The chirping birds, the rustling leaves… The walls you’d been kept behind were quiet, far too quiet for your taste. You were used to the sounds of life in the forest, and to be surrounded by the familiar noises once again filled you with delight. 

“Lady (Y/N), we should probably get back.” 

Temporarily, at least. 

You turned to look back at your escort. Tauriel, the captain of King Thranduil’s guard, had been reassigned as your personal escort the day you’d arrived. She was around your age, both of you quite young for elves, and in spite of the differences in your position she’d grown to be a close friend. Your only friend, really. 

“You don’t have to call me that.” You reminded her once again. 

She smiled, and you knew she would continue no matter how many times you told her otherwise.

“You are a lady, are you not? Soon to be the queen?” 

You grimaced at the reminder.

“Unfortunately.” You muttered under your breath. It was probably loud enough for her to hear, but you didn’t care. She was well aware of your feelings on the arrangement. 

You had not come to the kingdom under your own will. Your father, a high lord of another elven kingdom, had desired an alliance between your people and the much more powerful elves of Mirkwood. In exchange for protection and trade agreements, he’d offered King Thranduil your hand. You were both surprised the king had actually accepted, and as soon as word arrived of his agreement to the terms you’d been sent off to Mirkwood the very same afternoon. 

It was well known to many that the king had tragically lost his wife in a battle against orcs many years before. You were as shocked as anyone that he’d agreed to marry again, after he’d been intentionally alone for so many years. Upon your arrival he had been quick to inform you that the marriage was one purely of convenience, as your people had much to offer Mirkwood. Outside of that one conversation, you had not spent any time alone with the king. You’d not spent any time with him at all, really. Aside from the occasional dinner, which was also usually attended by his son, you had only seen Thranduil a handful of times since you’d arrived in Mirkwood a month before.

He was not unkind. From the small interactions you’d had with him he did not appear to be cruel or malicious. You sensed his hardened exterior had a lot to do with the loss of his first wife, and you could not fault him for that. For the most part since your arrival you had been left to your own devices within the walls of the kingdom. Thranduil had given you your own private chambers. They were large and luxurious, with the finest silken tapestries and hand carved furniture you could imagine. Your time was yours alone, as the king never sought an audience with you, and you spent it as you pleased. You’d grown close to Tauriel very quickly, and Thranduil’s son Legolas was also good company. 

Though you could hardly complain about the lavish treatment and unending free time, it had grown into a lonely existence. Your chambers, though massive, felt cold and empty without someone to share it with. You’d explored every nook and cavern of Mirkwood, read every book and parchment in the library, and quickly grew tired of the same mundane routine you’d fallen into. Which, subsequently, led to your trip outside of the kingdom walls with Tauriel. 

Speaking of Tauriel. You felt her step closer to you as she whispered in your ear.

“It could be far worse, (Y/N). I know this is not what you wanted, but Thranduil is a fair and noble man. You will have a good life here.” 

You knew she was right. As a highborn lady in your home kingdom, you’d watched many friends married off to unsavory men over the years. Of all the arrangements you could have ended up with, you’d been matched to the King of Mirkwood. You knew you would live a good life, a luxurious life. But you also knew you were walking into a loveless marriage, and the prospect of being alone pained you. Elves lived long lives, and you couldn’t imagine being a wife in name only for a thousand years or longer. You desired love and true companionship. 

As you looked back at her, nodding your head in resignation of the truth you knew she spoke, she gestured over her shoulder towards the direction of the gate. Time to return. You relented in defeat, following her as she began winding her way back through the woodland trails. The forest was safe now, the spiders having been driven off for good shortly after the Battle of the Five. The king was still reluctant to allow anyone to leave, and it had taken some persuasion on Tauriel’s part to get him to allow the adventure. You hoped he would consent to regular walks in the forest, so long as you didn’t try to abuse the privilege. He did not strike you as a controlling man, but he was certainly protective of his kingdom and those within it.

You took one last, deep breath of the fresh air before you stepped through the heavily guarded doors behind Tauriel. As you turned to say your goodbyes for the evening, you were approached by a taller, dark haired elf. You recognized him as one of Thranduil’s personal servants as he bowed before you. 

“Lady (Y/N), the king has requested an audience.” 

You looked between the messenger and Tauriel, unable to hide the expression of surprise that crossed your features. Thranduil had sent for you? 

Tauriel nodded politely to you as she bowed, dismissing herself as the servant gestured for you to follow him. 

“You know where to find me should you need me, my lady.” She said before turning and departing.

You followed the servant down the winding corridors, through the only passageways you were still unfamiliar with in the kingdom. As you and Thranduil had separate chambers and living spaces, you hadn’t had cause to explore the areas surrounding his rooms. You were surprised to find he had summoned you into his private quarters, rather than his throne room or the dining hall you semi-frequently gathered in. 

The servant came to a halt in front of a large set of ornate doors and he knocked once before opening it, gesturing for you to step through. You stepped inside and the doors closed behind you. The servant didn’t follow you in, and as you continued on alone your mind raced with the possibilities of why Thranduil might have requested to speak with you. 

You were surprised to find his chambers were not much more lavish than your own. He’d clearly spared no expense on your living quarters, as his shared the same style of furniture and tapestries as yours did. The only visible difference you could detect was that his rooms were just a slight bit larger than yours. As you rounded the corner into the main living area you found the king at last. He was standing with his back to you, and as you approached he did not turn to greet you. You stopped a few yards away from him, standing awkwardly with your hands clasped together. He was a king, after all, and you were uncertain if you should speak first. Surely he’d heard you enter. 

After several long moments of silence, Thranduil finally spoke. 

“How have you been finding the kingdom?” He asked, his back still turned to you. His arms moved as he spoke, and from behind it looked as though he were fidgeting with something on the table he stood before.

“Fine, your majesty.” You said quietly, not bothering to elaborate. You didn’t think he’d care too much for the details anyway.

“Have you been treated well?” He continued, still not turning to face you.

“Yes, your majesty.” 

“You may call me Thranduil.” He finally turned, holding two goblets of red wine in his hands. He handed you one and took a long sip from his own before continuing. “We are to be wed, after all. Even if it is merely an arrangement.” 

You nodded wordlessly as you accepted the glass. You remained silent, uncertain of what to say. He paused for a moment before he pivoted on his heel and began to walk back in the direction he’d come.

“I have received an invitation from King Thorin.” As he spoke he paced around the room, sipping from his goblet. It was clear he was as uncertain of what to do in your presence as you were in his. “They are holding a celebration in honor of the anniversary of Erebor’s reclamation. Would you care to attend with me?” 

That was surprising. Despite the joint effort it took between the dwarves and elves to defeat the orc armies, they were still not on the best of terms. Thorin had, after all, attempted to keep the elves’ jewels to himself and nearly started a war between the two clans as a result. There was an uneasy peace between the two, now that the dwarves resided in the mountain once again, and you were surprised that Thranduil would be willing to travel all that way to be in the company of dwarves.

“Yes your ma- Thranduil.” You quickly corrected yourself.

He paused and turned to look at you, though he did not make a move to step closer. 

“I do not expect love to grow between us.” He said flatly.  “But we should be able to tolerate each other, should we not?” 

You nodded.

“Yes, I would say so.” 

He nodded in return as he held his wine glass out, indicating a toast. 

“Very well then. We leave in one week's time.” 

** 

The journey from Mirkwood to Erebor had taken two days, and with the lavish way in which Thranduil liked to travel it was not an uncomfortable trek as you’d anticipated. You arrived at the mountain kingdom well rested, and rather excited at the prospect of a feast. From what the king had explained of dwarvish parties he remembered from the late King Thror’s time, the feast could go on for days. You would be arriving at the tail end of the celebration, as Thranduil had planned. Dwarves were apparently a rambunctious bunch, and as Thorin had requested Thranduil stay and tour the mountain afterwards he had not wanted to spend more time with them than he needed. 

Erebor was as magnificent as you’d been told. It was amazing how the mountain had been transformed and rebuilt in merely a year's time. Though you were used to the splendor of elven realms, as both Mirkwood and your birth home were lavish and beautiful, there was something awe-inspiring about the kingdom under the mountain. The halls were endless, sprawling on in either direction as far as your eyes could see. The ceilings were impossibly high, and despite the kingdom being built into the side of a mountain there seemed to be an abundance of light flowing from any given direction. To look down at the winding staircases that led deeper into the heart of the mountain would make you dizzy, if you stared too long. The stone walls were carved and inlaid with intricate designs of gold and silver, telling the tales and the history of the line of Durin. You had studied many languages, and Khuzdul was one you were somewhat familiar with. You’d found yourself stopping every few feet along the walk to your chambers to read the inscriptions on the walls. 

Legolas, Tauriel, and a handful of others had made the journey along with yourself and Thranduil. The dwarves had spared no luxury for your group, as you’d each been housed in your own private chamber within the mountain. Dwarvish extravagance was very different from that of your elven home. Where the elves valued natural elegance, which involved a lot of carved wood and intricate silks, the dwarves had more of a rugged taste. Your rooms consisted of chiseled stone furniture and fixtures, inlaid with even more gold and a number of jewels you had never laid eyes on before. Though it was very different from your home in Mirkwood, it still felt comfortable and welcoming. 

The dwarf servant that had been assigned to your care had asked what could be provided to make your stay more enjoyable, and she was delighted at your request for books to read later in the evening. She seemed impressed at your ability to read and understand Khuzdul, as many elves didn’t care or bother to learn the language of the dwarves. You’d noticed the air of arrogance Thranduil and Legolas, and even Tauriel, had displayed since your arrival, and you made it your mission to change the dwarves’ opinion of elves, even if the others chose not to do the same. 

After resting and dressing for dinner, you’d met Thranduil and the others in the hall. He extended his arm out to you automatically, as though it were expected rather than something he cared to do. You’d accepted it regardless. As you walked along he did not look down at you, or even acknowledge your dress or appearance for the event. Was this the life you were destined for? Emotionless, cold… Doing things merely out of duty and not from love? You felt your heart sink as you walked along beside the king. It was a lonely existence. 

The feast was in full swing by the time you arrived. It was chaos. There were long, sprawling tables lined with food and more dwarves than you could count. As you watched, food flew from every side of the room, ale spilled across the tabletops and onto the floor, and dwarves moved about, falling over themselves and each other. It was clear the drinking had been going on for much longer than the actual feast. 

“They behave like animals.” Thranduil muttered under his breath. 

Despite having never been in the company of dwarves before, you found yourself surprisingly unbothered by their behavior. They seemed to be enjoying themselves, which was more than you could say for your royal escort. It was certainly more rambunctious than any elvish party you had ever attended, but at least they were having a good time. 

As your party approached a large table at the head of the room, one of the dwarves stood to greet you. He was dark haired with a matching dark beard. Streaks of gray peppered both his long hair and speckled his face, and with the gold and emerald crown atop his head you took him to be the king. As he stood he extended his hand in a greeting.

“King Thranduil.” He bowed his head out of respect to the elven king as he placed his hand across his chest. “We are pleased you could make the journey.” 

Thranduil nodded tightly in return, also bowing his head to Thorin to your surprise. 

“King Thorin.” He said politely, though you could hear the hint of tension in his voice.  “This is my betrothed, Lady (Y/N). You’ve met my son, Prince Legolas.” 

Thorin nodded at you both before gesturing to the dwarves seated on either side of him. On one side sat a woman, with dark hair similar to his own. They shared a stark resemblance, down to the neatly trimmed beard she wore as well. On his other side sat a younger dwarf, who also matched the seeming familial resemblance to the other two. He had wavy, golden hair with braids woven through. His braided mustache bounced as he nodded his head in respect. 

“A pleasure, my lady. My prince. This is my sister, Lady Dis. My nephew and heir, Prince Fili. My other nephew will be joining us shortly.” As he spoke he gestured to two empty seats on the opposite side of the prince. “King Thranduil, would you and your betrothed join us at the head table?” 

Your eyes traveled to the spot down from the empty spaces. You recognized the king of the newly rebuilt city of Dale, Bard. The one who had been responsible for slaying Smaug, if you remembered the story correctly. 

Thranduil’s increasingly strained smile caught your attention from the corner of your eye, and you couldn’t help but smirk a bit in response. You knew the last thing he’d wanted for the evening was to be sandwiched between the dwarves he still wasn’t overly fond of and the humans he held in equal disdain. However you knew his kingly pride would not allow him to turn down the offer. You, on the other hand, were excited to continue on with your mission of making the dwarves see the elves in a better light. 

“We’d be honored.” He said, forcing an even larger fake smile. As another dwarf servant appeared and escorted Legolas and the others to their table, Thranduil gestured for you to choose your seat first. Unable to resist the humor of making the king even more uncomfortable, you opted for the seat next to Bard, leaving Thranduil no choice but to sit and make conversation with the dwarven king and prince. 

“It’s a pleasure, my lady.” King Bard said as you sat, extending his hand to help you into your seat. “I was not aware that King Thranduil had taken a bride.” 

“It’s a new development.” You said, quickly attempting to divert the conversation away from your engagement. “How is the work on the city going?” 

As the two of you made light conversation and exchanged pleasantries, speaking of the rebuild of Dale and the newly reformed relations between dwarves, elves, and men, you began to lose track of time. Several courses came and went, and ale and wine continued to flow freely. Though the elvish tolerance made your kind more resistant to the influence of alcohol, the steady refilling of your goblet as you chatted and sipped away had your head spinning before you’d realized what had happened. You began to feel warm, and as you breathed in and out your corset suddenly felt overwhelmingly restrictive around your chest. 

Air. You needed air. 

Without thinking you turned to your fiance, grabbing his arm in an attempt to get his attention. 

“Thranduil.”

He turned to you, and as his eyes met yours his brief look of annoyance quickly turned into one of concern as he noticed your flushed and panicked face. 

“Are you alright?” He asked quietly, and you were surprised to find that he actually appeared to be worried for your wellbeing. 

You nodded in reassurance, not wanting to cause a scene as you felt the eyes of Bard and Thorin also turning to you.

“I’m just feeling a bit warm, I think I’m going to step out for a moment.”

Thranduil gave a small nod in return, and you quickly stood and excused yourself from the table.

You were uncertain of where to go, as you’d only arrived in the mountain earlier that day and had not had a chance to get to know your way around. The way back to your room felt somewhat familiar, and you decided a quick stroll there and back might help clear your head. As you wove through the crowd, deftly avoiding numerous drunk and stumbling dwarves, you found that a makeshift dance floor had formed directly in front of the entrance, and only exit, to the great hall. You were unfamiliar with the dwarvish music, but it was much softer and merrier than you expected. Dozens of couples twirled around, following footwork that was unknown to you but something they seemed to know by heart. You were transfixed for several moments, watching them move about with an ease and grace that you didn’t know came so naturally to dwarves. After a few minutes you remembered your desire for some air, and decided you’d still like a short break from the commotion before you returned to the table. You tried to move nimbly along the outskirts of the dance floor, trying to avoid crashing into dancing dwarves as you stayed as far out of the way as possible. As you turned back to watch momentarily, still intrigued, you felt yourself collide solidly with another body. Before you had the chance to correct your footing you found you were falling backward. You braced yourself for the impact, but before your body could crash into the stone floor a pair of arms wrapped tightly around you, and you felt yourself being pulled into a broad chest. 

Your gaze turned forward, looking for the source of your rescue in order to thank whoever had saved you from splitting your head open. As your eyes searched the space in front of you they spotted the top of a head of brown hair; the person to whom it was attached stood a few inches shorter than you. It was a dwarf, if you had to guess. He was still cradling you tightly against him, as though he anticipated you might fall backward again at any moment. You felt his grasp loosen as he leaned back to look up at you, though his arms still remained wrapped around your body.

He was young. The difference in how dwarves and elves aged was unfamiliar to you, but judging by his lack of a beard and softer features you assumed he was not an elder. He had wavy brown hair that was pulled partially back, save for a few loose strands and a fringe of bangs that framed his face and a pair of dazzling brown eyes. Though he lacked the fuller beard and mustache that most dwarves wore he did have a sprinkling of stubble across his face. The lack of a beard allowed you to fully appreciate his chiseled jawline and lips, the latter of which currently sported a wide grin. He was quite handsome, and you couldn’t help but stand and stare down at the stranger for several long moments. 

Too long, you realized. How long had you been standing in silence, staring at the nameless man? It would surely look bad if anyone from your party came strolling by.

“I’m sorry sir-” You started. As you stuttered out an apology you moved to step backward, and subsequently tripped again. The young dwarf immediately grasped your arm tighter to steady you and you felt a blush creep into your cheeks in response. So much for the grace and elegance of the elves. 

“The fault was entirely mine, my lady.” He said in return, his kind smile widening at your flustered speech and clumsiness. He didn’t appear to be bothered by your awkwardness; on the contrary, he seemed to enjoy it. His touch lingered on your arm, ensuring you would not fall again before he slowly released his grasp. 

“I’d hardly say so, you were merely walking by and I was not watching where I was going.” Despite your embarrassment you felt a smile spread across your face as well. The kind twinkle in his eyes was contagious, and you quickly felt your fluster fade the longer the two of you spoke.

“Well if you’re so inclined to make amends, you can honor me with a dance.” As he spoke he extended his hand toward you, and in the same motion he nodded his head toward the mass of dancing bodies. The music had slowed to something much less upbeat, something you were sure even you could keep up with. 

You paused. The nameless man had intrigued you, that was for certain. But would dancing with a random dwarf enrage your royal fiance? You craned your neck to look back in the direction of the table you had been sat at with Thranduil and the other royals, but from your position near the dance floor you could not see them. Which meant more than likely they could not see you either. Even so, would it really be that big of a deal? You were supposed to be making peace, after all. 

“That seems only fair.” You said as you turned back to face him. As you accepted his outstretched hand he grasped it tightly, as if he were afraid you’d disappear, and pulled you to the floor. 

The two of you came to a halt in the middle of the mass of bodies. You were surrounded by other dancing pairs on every side, safely hidden away from any watchful eyes. As you rested your hand on his shoulder and entwined the fingers of your free hand with his you felt his other hand rest on your hip. The light touch sent a wave of goosebumps up the side of your body. It was more contact than you’d ever had with the man who was supposed to become your husband. Every point of contact your body had with the stranger felt as though it were on fire. 

Seeming to know you were unfamiliar with the music he took the lead, tugging you gently back and forth until you became comfortable with the simple steps of the dance. You swayed together for a few moments, neither speaking but simply watching each other in a comfortable silence. Though he was a bit shorter than you it was not by much. He stood at eye level with your nose, and you wondered if he were tall for a dwarf, or if you were short for an elf. Thranduil and the others had towered over Thorin, so you expected it was the latter. You had often been one of the smaller elves wherever you’d gone. 

“So you are not from the Iron Hills, I take it.” He grinned up at you as he finally spoke, stating the obvious. There were many physical differences between elves and dwarves, but if your ears and impossibly long hair had not given you away your dress certainly would have. The high-necked and fitted gowns of the dwarven women were a stark contrast to the lower cut and flowing gowns of the elves. 

“I am not.” You confirmed. 

“Are you from Mirkwood?” He continued.

“I am living in Mirkwood, but I am from somewhere farther.” 

“And are all the elves as graceful as you?” He asked. As he spoke he attempted to keep a serious face, as though it were a genuine inquiry. He failed, and before you had the chance to respond to his prodding a smirk broke through his stoic expression. 

“Well I’ve often suspected I’m not entirely an elf.” You said matter-of-factly, playing along with his teasing. “Grace has never been my strong suit.” 

“Why do you say that?” 

“I didn’t know my mother. My father does not speak of her. And as you’ve so keenly pointed out, I do lack the natural elegance of the elves.” Why were you telling him this? You’d only just met the man, and yet you found yourself spilling out the innermost things you’d only ever wondered to yourself. 

“And the height.” He quipped, confirming your earlier thoughts. “But you are no less stunning.” 

You felt a warmth spread across your face, and you were certain you’d blushed a scarlet red. He was more forward than you were used to, and although you enjoyed the company of the cheeky dwarf you were also an engaged woman. To a king, no less. You’d become lost in the conversation, fully absorbed in the moments shared with the handsome stranger. To the point you had almost forgotten you were still in the center of a crowded dance floor. You realized the two of you had stopped moving and instead stood staring at each other again. His eyes were mesmerizing. His fringe of bangs had fallen partially to cover them, and you felt yourself drawn to reach forward and brush them away.

“Are you from Erebor?” You quickly asked, sidestepping his compliment. “Or have you traveled for the celebration?” You turned your gaze to the couples around you and tugged on his hand, indicating you should start moving again. 

Out of the corner of your eye you could see his lopsided grin return, fully aware that you’d avoided the second part of his earlier statement. He followed your lead and began to sway with you, though you noted his grip had tightened on your hip. 

“I live here.” 

“Did you live here before the…” You trailed off, uncertain of how the dwarves spoke of the years the mountain stood uninhabited. Was it a sore subject still? 

“Before the dragon?” He finished. “No. Why do I look that old?” His eyebrows furrowed together as he spoke, his expression unreadable. 

You’d offended him.

“N- no. You don’t. I didn’t- I mean-” You felt your face flush red again as you stumbled over your words. Of course he couldn’t have been old enough to have lived through Smaug. Could he? 

He laughed. 

“I’m only joking.” He assured you. As he spoke he stopped moving again, and gestured over his shoulder to the exit you’d been attempting to make it to before. “Would you like to take a walk? I could show you around a bit while everyone is in here. The halls will be empty” 

You felt a flutter run through your stomach at the prospect of being alone with the mystery man. It was a feeling you’d never experienced with Thranduil, and expected you never would. You checked over your shoulder again, still unable to see the head table from where the two of you stood. But again, would it be so bad? Accepting a tour of the kingdom from a dwarf? You had made it your mission to change their view of the elves, after all. You wordlessly nodded, accepting his invitation, and he grinned widely in return as he took your hand and led you nimbly through the crowd.

The halls of Erebor appeared impossibly larger while empty. The stranger led you up and down staircases, pointing out different areas of the kingdom and showing you various repairs that had been completed in order to reverse the damage done by the dragon. As you walked together you lost track of time again, and you wondered how long you’d been absent from the table. Had Thranduil noticed? Likely not. He never seemed to notice or care when you were gone. 

“So how did you come to live in Mirkwood?” Your escort finally asked, his attention turning from the newly rebuilt throne to you. “You mentioned earlier you were not from there.” 

“My…betrothed.” You started hesitantly. “He lives in Mirkwood.” 

You paused, waiting for the inevitable reaction. You were promised to another, and it pained you to tell him. You felt an undeniable draw to this man who’s name you did not know. There was a familiarity and comfort with him, something you’d never felt before and certainly did not feel with Thranduil. As you waited for him to excuse himself and leave you standing alone in the halls you held your breath, dreading the fallout. 

“Oh.” He sounded surprised at the revelation, but not upset. He made no move to run away from you as he continued. “You do not sound happy about the arrangement.” 

You breathed a sigh of relief, grateful that he had not fled at the mention of your fiance. Though you’d made no mention of your unhappiness with the king, he seemed to have noted that it was not a joyous engagement. You wondered if it were that obvious to everyone when you spoke of Thranduil. 

“I’m not.” 

“Does he not treat you well?” He asked. You noticed a look of concern that immediately furrowed lines in his face. 

“In order to treat me well or not well he’d have to spend time with me.” You said, offering him a sad but reassuring smile that your intended was not an unkind man. “And we do not spend any time together. He told me when I arrived we were to be together in name only.” 

“That sounds terribly lonely.” 

“It has been.” You continued quietly. Your gaze turned back to the designs etched into the stone floor as you walked. Who was this stranger? This man you’d known for an hour at most, but somehow you felt more comfortable with than anyone you’d ever met before. You wanted to know him better, but that would surely be impossible. 

The two of you walked on in silence for several minutes before he spoke again. 

“Has he seen you?” He asked suddenly. 

“What do you mean?”

“Has he laid eyes on you?” He asked again, a hint of urgency in his voice. 

“Well, yes, I’m here with him.” You stated simply. What was he getting at? 

The man shook his head as he turned from you back to stare ahead as you walked. 

“He is a madman, then.” 

“How so?”

“To possess a woman so divine and not spend any time with her…” He trailed off, shaking his head again as though in disappointment. “The only conclusion is he must be insane.” 

You felt your cheeks flush at his statement. This stranger had spoken more kind words to you in an evening than Thranduil had in a month. Who was this man? 

“I don’t know if I would say that.” You said quietly, keeping your eyes focused on the ground as you spoke. 

“I would.” He stopped suddenly and took your hand, pulling you to a stop with him. He tugged you around to face him, and kept your hand locked tightly in his as he spoke. “Tales will be written of your beauty some day. You are the fairest princess in the most wonderful fairytale. The most beautiful and elegant of all the elves in all of the realms. The most precious jewel under this mountain. If he is not insane, your betrothed is surely blind.” 

The way he stared up into your eyes sent another flutter through your stomach. Something you’d sorely lacked with Thranduil. Passion. You felt it as strongly as anything, the unmistakable feelings of desire and attraction swirling within you. It was as though the force of gravity itself had shifted, and rather than grounding you to the earth you stood on it was pulling you towards this stranger instead. 

“You flatter me, sir. I do not even know your name.” You whispered. As you spoke you felt yourself unconsciously pulling against his hand, tugging him closer to you. He stepped forward willingly, bringing your bodies only inches apart. 

“I am-” He began.

“Kili.” 

The both of you jumped at the unfamiliar voice that invaded the intimate bubble you’d enclosed yourselves in. You quickly released his hand and stepped backward, putting as much space as possible between you as the intruder approached. The young blonde prince you’d met earlier, Fili if you remembered correctly, was strolling toward the two of you. 

“My lady, this is my brother, Prince Kili.” He said by way of introduction as he came to a halt beside him. “Brother this is Lady (Y/N), the intended of King Thranduil.” It seemed as though he were offering a reminder to the pair of you, rather than an introduction. 

His brother. The king’s nephew. Of course it was. 

The stranger you now knew to be Kili was staring at you, the pieces falling into place as his eyes widened. 

“Thranduil…” He mumbled. “Of course.”

Fili raised an eyebrow in confusion at his brother's muttering before turning his attention back to you. 

“My lady, your fiance requested I come check on you. Are you well?” He asked. He was far more formal and royally appropriate than his brother had been for the past hour. 

You quickly slipped back into a more formal mode yourself, straightening your back and clasping your hands behind you. You nodded respectfully at the elder prince. 

“Thank you, Prince Fili. Prince Kili was just escorting me back to my room. Will you tell King Thranduil I am not feeling well and would like to retire for the evening?” 

He nodded. 

“I will. Brother, our king has requested your presence. Do you know the rest of the way back, my lady?” As he spoke he pulled on his brother's arm, indicating they should return to the hall as quickly as possible. You hoped nothing had been made of your joint absence, though given the fact you’d not been introduced earlier the connection would have been a longshot for anyone to make. 

“I do.” You said, giving the older brother a reassuring smile as he turned to leave. “It was nice to meet you, Kili.” You felt a pang of sadness. The evening had gone by far too quickly, and you knew you were not likely to see the handsome prince again.

“And you, (Y/N).” He took your hand in his and kissed it gently, allowing his lips to momentarily linger against the delicate skin of your hand. He released it and quickly stood, leaning in to whisper in your ear before following his brother. “I will find you again.” 

[rynnthefangirl]

I get that it is pretty standard storytelling to stack the odds in favor of your villains in order to make the protagonists eventually success more satisfying… but it is so frustrating to see how the mood of Westeros at the start of the Dance was so flipped around from what it was in the books.

People WANTED to fight for Rhaenyra. She was the Realms Delight, Viserys’ Little Girl, the rightful heir. During Aegon’s coronation, Smallfolk murmured in hesitant confusion, occasionally shouting out “Long live Queen Rhaenyra!” The Starks, the Arryns, the Velaryons, and many more houses were 100% behind her. Even in the Reach, which should have been fully in the Hightowers pocket, many houses were declaring for Rhaenyra. She had the majority of the Houses in Westeros on her side! Meanwhile Otto was writing for foreign aid in a desperate attempt to get more support for their side.

The Greens believed that the Realm would side with Aegon due to misogyny and fear of retaliation, and were shocked at how much support Rhaenrya managed to garner. They usurped the throne not just bc they were willing to tear the realm apart for power (though they were) but bc they believed it would would not be necessary. But as it turns out, stealing a throne, slaying a peace envoy and your own nephew, and imprisoning/murdering lords for keeping their oaths does NOT make you popular. The Greens were doomed by their own arrogance. They themselves had no respect for oaths or loyalty, and assumed that the rest of the Realm was the same. They thought that as long as they had Kings Landing and Vhagar, they could bribe or threaten the houses into submission. But that was not the case. The Greens plan did NOT go as they wanted bc other houses were not as grasping and selfish as they expected. Not as grasping and selfish as they and their allies were.

But in the show?

-People hate Rhaenyra for the death of Jaehaerys, but absolutely nobody seems to give a shit that Aemond murdered his nephew, a 13 year old peace envoy. I don’t think he has even been called a kinslayer yet.

-The smallfolk all cheer at Aegon’s coronation (though I will give the show credit that the smallfolks attitudes are shifting against Aegon after the ratcatchers and parading of Meleys’ head, as they should).

-Jane Arryn, Rhaenys Targaryen, Corlys Velaryon all seem to resent Rhaenyra. It’s not even clear why they are fighting for her, as it seems to be with the greatest reluctance.

-The Brackens are the noble oathkeeping house that will burn before betraying their king, while the Blackwoods are evil underhanded murderers.

-Rather than the taking of Harrenhall being a decisive and important victory for the Blacks that shakes Aegon to his core, Daemon is floundering to get any support while all the Riverlords hate him and call him and Rhaenrya a tyrant.

-The Freys are only reluctant allies, again solely for whatever they can get for it.

At this point, the only ones that seems to pose any sort of threat to the Greens is their own leaders. Certainly not any of the Blacks. I’m not even sure why Criston Cole is bothering to take smaller castles around Kings Landing instead of just marching his men to Harrenhall. They’ve talked about it being the key to the Riverlands, and it’s not as though Daemon has a host there (or seemingly any firm support from anyone but House Blackwood). So go take it! What they hell are they waiting for?

Despite the brutal losses of Rhaenys and Jace, the Blacks take both Harrenhall and then Kings Landing quite decisively and with little bloodshed. Rhaenrya’s downfall is due to her own descent into grief, vengeance, and paranoia following the death of her children and multiple betrayals, combined with the insanity sweeping KL and the realm due to the stolen crown treasury and the horrific war crimes being rained down upon the realm (thanks Aemond, Daeron, Dalton, Ulf, and Hugh).

As it stands though, I’m reminded of Game of Thrones S7-8, where Cersei is able to do anything she wants with no backlash while Daenerys and hated and betrayed for her every action, despite Dany being an infinitely better person and ruler. I mean, it’s not quite at that level, but it is in the same ball field.

Stakes are good and all, but let the leaders of Team Black be as cool as they were in the books. And let Rhaenyra be flawed, let the burden of the war force her to make bad and vengeful decisions. While I certainly don’t want Rhaenyra to be totally demonized and it should not all be on her, we’ve swung too far the other way. The show’s depiction of Team Black needs balance. And the Greens need to face consequences for what they do.

[kckt88]

Dragonstone.

Summary:

The news of Aegon's crowning reaches Dragonstone.

Warning(s): Allusion to Childbirth, Stillbirth, Death, Past Feelings, Child Abandonment.

Word Count: 1050.

Author Note: A companion piece to Wedding & Consummation/Arrival(s)/A Time for Grief/The Gullet & Harrenhal and the Rivers, but can be read as a one-shot.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated.

“The Princess Rhaenys Targaryen”

“Thank you, Ser Laurent,” replied Rhaenyra.

As her guard nodded and shuffled backwards.

“Princess Rhaenys, might we hope for news of Lord Corlys’ recovery?” asked Rhaenyra.

“Viserys is dead. I grieve this loss with you Rhaenyra. My cousin, your father possessed a kind heart”.

After a few moments of silence. Rhaenyra grasped her rounded stomach as the tears began to roll down her pale cheeks.

“There is more. Aegon has been crowned as his successor”.

“T-They crowned him” whispered Rhaenyra.

“How did Viserys die?” asked Daemon quietly, still processing the news of his older brothers death.

“I could not say” replied Rhaenys.

“How long ago?”

“A day passed, perhaps two. I was made a prisoner in my quarters while the Queen made her preparations-“

“-Viserys has been slain” urged Daemon.

“Alicent demanded that you declare for Aegon” said Rhaenyra, the tears still streaming down her face.

“She did” nodded Rhaenys.

“I refused her”.

“Yet you are alive” snapped Daemon.

“The High Septon crowned Aegon in the Dragon Pit. I witnessed it myself just before I fled on Meley’s” explained Rhaenys.

“T-They crowned him before the masses”.

“So that the masses would see him as their rightful King” said Rhaenys.

“That whore of a Queen murdered my brother and stole his throne, and you could have burnt them all for it” snapped Daemon.

“A war is likely to be fought over this treachery to be sure, but that is not my war to begin, and your own daughter was standing there. Would you have me burn her alive?”

“That girl is no daughter of mine; she is a traitor and a green whore” snarled Daemon.

“D-Daemon” exclaimed Rhaenyra grimacing in pain as her hand clasped her stomach.

“The daughter who you handed off to the Greens when she was five and ten without a second thought. I brought you this news out of loyalty to my house, you should all leave Dragonstone at once. The greens will come for you Rhaenyra and your children” urged Rhaenys as she turned away from Rhaenyra but stopped when the Princess doubled over in pain.

Rhaenyra quickly rucked up her dress and pressed a hand between her legs.

“The babe is coming” gasped Rhaenyra as she stared at her blood-soaked hand.

This was going to be her last babe. How she’d hoped and prayed to the gods of old Valyria that this one would be another girl. Her first was a girl, as beautiful as the first specks of light upon the horizon. But she was the reminder, of a man who had stolen her heart and never gave it back. Every time she would gaze upon her daughter in the cradle, she would see those light amethyst eyes, the very same as his, innocently staring back at her and it was like he’d abandoned her all over again. She loved her daughter, but she knew it wasn’t enough, and it was easier to pass her off to Laenor and have him care for her and raise her. There were moments when she really tried, but she couldn’t. She felt disconnected and unworthy of such a precious creature.

Forgetting Daemon had been hard, accepting his marriage to Laena even harder but then there was Ser Harwin Strong. The Commander of the City Watch, utterly devoted to her and it made her feel wanted. Needed. Even loved. He gave her two precious sons who were perfect and untainted by abandonment.

The whispers surrounding her beloved boys made her fiercely protective, even more so when Ser Harwin passed away and moving to Dragonstone was the only option for them. But then Laena died, and he came back into her life.

She thought she could handle it, but the moment their eyes connected, she knew she was lost. He took her on the sands of Driftmark, his passion for her was ferocious and unyielding.

Then her younger half-brother lost an eye and her world changed again.

Her daughter was to be wed to the maimed boy as a show of unity amongst their houses. A command from the King that she could not undo.

In that moment, if she was ever to ascend the Iron Throne as Queen, she would need her Uncle. But in order for them to marry, she would need to be rid of Laenor, she knew it would hurt her daughter to lose her father, but it was a necessary sacrifice.

Killing Laenor was the easiest part, it was how her daughter reacted afterwards that was the hardest.

Even finding out that Daemon was her true sire, did nothing to quell the fire that raged within her daughter.

Yet it was her claiming of the Cannibal that proved to be her salvation. The most ferocious dragon alive had spurned many would be riders that came and went over the years, turning them to ash and bone, yet it was Vaera that he accepted and from that day on they were always together, for hours each day soaring through the clouds and skimming over the waves of the sea.

Her daughter was a natural dragon rider, proud of her claim. A true dragon at last.

When she turned five and ten, her daughter travelled to Kings Landing, where she claimed herself another dragon. Her Uncle Aemond, the boy her brother had maimed with a blade was now a man grown. Fiercely loving and equally protective in nature. They truly were a match.

Since her move to Kings Landing, her daughter had become a distant stranger. Rhaenyra was ashamed of herself, but it became too easy to stay away.

Even when word reached them that her sweet daughter had birthed twin sons, she remained sequestered away on Dragonstone with her own precious sons.

But as she held her scaled and deformed stillborn daughter in her arms, Rhaenyra longed to hear the voice of her sweet eldest girl. Even for a moment, but it was not possible right now. She had chosen Aemond and cast aside her own siblings for green snakes that slithered around her and spewed their poisonous vitriol in her ear whilst they stole the throne. She needed to take it back, to reclaim her birthright. She needed to make things right with her sweet girl and meet her grandsons.

Rhaenyra felt a hand on her shoulder, snapping her out of her reverie.

“We must burn her” whispered Rhaenyra.

[flowerprincesscherryblossom]

just once

pairing: Kim Taehyung x Female Reader word count: 2204 warnings: angst, royalty au, smut, arranged marriage, infidelity, mirror sex, creampie, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, loss of virginity AO3 A/N: Hope you like it and that you have a wonderful day wherever you are💜

It had been hammered into your head ever since you were old enough to walk and talk, even if it came with tumbles and gibberish, that when you came to the age of twenty that you would be married off to the oldest prince of the neighboring country.

You never really gave much thought to it, royal marriages such as yours aren't made for couples in love, they're were made to strengthen the union between the two kingdoms - nothing but politics, love, and other such feelings weren't welcome.

You had always hoped that, at the very least, friendship could bloom between you and your future husband.

You met prince Seokjin three months before the wedding was supposed to take place, you assumed that it was due to both sides wanting the future couple to get to know each other, not that it matters much, both of you barely talk to one another due to always being under the watchful eye of both queens.

Looking back, you never really understood the point of said meetings, how could you get to know each other when the only time you were allowed to speak and see one another was when you were, quote-unquote, helping plan your future wedding?

You knew from the beginning that you would never find love with Seokjin, but you never expected to find the closest similar emotion to it with the youngest Kim brother.

You met Taehyung a couple of days after meeting your future husband, according to him the youngest Kim was supposed to arrive in your castle on the same day as his brother but unfortunately had some personal business that required his utmost attention.

The way your heart skipped a beat when he bowed before you and the way it started beating so loud that it was the only sound your ears could pick up when he took your hand and press a soft kiss on your knuckles was something that it couldn't be helped.

Looking back at your first interaction, as you stared at the mirror on the vanity as your maids fixed your hair and applied makeup, you realize that you had fallen for him the moment he flashed you his boxy smile.

You felt tears stinging in the corner of your eyes as you remembered every single interaction the both of you have had. Although they seemed sweet and innocent to the outside world the both of you knew it meant more than that - simple touches and gazes that lingered far more than what should be appropriate, secret late-night meetings where conversations of everything and nothing were held, both of you always making sure to never cross the line of no return, no matter how much you want it.

"You're finished your Grace," you're pulled into reality by the sound of your head maid's voice. Chaerin had been with you for as long as you remembered, serving both as a mother figure and a best friend, always looking out for you. "I think even prince Seokjin will be jealous of how gorgeous your Grace's is."

Normally you would give her a small smile, simply to humor her, but today wasn't one of those days, so you just hummed.

With a sigh Chaerin dispersed the other maids, most likely knowing you needed a moment to yourself.

Looking at your reflection you felt sick. Everything about it made you want to jump out of your window - the hair, the makeup, the necklace whose jewels glisten brighter than the sunlight, the pure white dress seemed to mock you with its constant reminders of the life that was waiting for you.

"Try to keep calm your Grace," the older woman said, trying to reassure you as her hand squeezed your shoulder. "You could've done worse than the prince. At least, he'll treat you with the kindness and care you deserve."

She was right but that didn't stop the pain you felt inside. As tears began to slip down your cheeks you bit your lower lip, not wanting all the work the maids had put into to go to waste.

"I'll go make some tea to calm your nerves," she said with a hoarse voice, trying to hold back her tears, before giving you a peck on the side of the head and walking out of the room.

With the sound of the now-closed door, you finally felt free enough to break down. You felt so broken, you didn't want to do anything other than to crawl back into your bed and hoping to wake up from this nightmare you found yourself in. You wanted to run away, far far away from this place, somewhere where no one would know anything about you, you had even brought that idea with Taehyung many times but, much to your dismay, he always turned it down - not wanting you to live your life on the run.

"Beautiful girls shouldn't cry on their wedding day," you were pulled out of your downward spiral by the sound of the deep voice that haunted your every moment.

You looked at Taehyung through the mirror, not wanting to look at him since you felt yourself breaking down once again.

"I came across Chaerin on the hall and she told me about it," he answered the question that was on your mind. It didn't come as a shock that your maid knew about your feelings towards the youngest Kim brother, however, you were surprised that she would allow the two of you to meet hours before your wedding to his older brother.

"Y-You shouldn't be h-here," you tried to sound domineering through your tears, failing miserably. "I-If anyone finds you-"

"Nobody will come here," he interrupted stepping closer to you and wrapping his arms around you in an embrace, burying his face on the crook of your neck. "Chaerin is making sure that no one interrupts your time alone."

You relaxed against his touch, closing your eyes and imagining a world where the both of you could be together without any repercussions. "I love you," you whispered softly, even if you were the only two people in the room a part wanted him to be the only one who'd hear these words.

"I love you too, so much" his embrace got tighter, almost afraid that were he to let go you'd fall into his brother's arms much quicker.

A silence befell the two of you, the only sounds being heard were the preparations outside your window and the whimpers and choked sobs both of you released. The clock was ticking down and with it, your time together was becoming minuscule, and with a deep breath, you decided that, for once, you'd do what you wanted instead of what was expected.

"Can we be together the way only lovers can?" you said softly, turning to look at him and placing a peck on his cheek. "Please? Just this once?"

"I don't think that's a good idea princess," Taehyung stepped away from you. "It will hurt more afterward."

"I know it's not the most conventional idea," you sighed, still not willing to give up. "But I just want to give the one I love my everything before I'm bound to someone else for eternity," you took his hand and started to spread kisses throughout his knuckles. "Will you please allow me that pleasure?"

He takes your face in his hands, caressing your cheeks with his thumbs. "As you wish," pressing his lips against yours, your first kiss being a soft and tender one.

Leaning your head back Taehyung presses his mouth against yours more firmly, your arms wrapping around his neck and his hands on your waist, pulling you closer to him.

Separating for breath he spreads kisses along your neck, you tilt your head back and crane your neck to give him better access, wishing he was allowed to mark you.

"Turn around princess, bend over the vanity," doing what you're told, you close your eyes when you feel his hands roaming through your body, letting out a moan when his hands cup your breasts through your dress.

When Taehyung pushed your dress higher, and started to rub you through your underwear, a part of your heart couldn't help but be disappointed over the fact that you were in such a rush that you couldn't remove your clothes and feel his skin on yours.

Pushing your panties to the side Taehyung rubbed the wetness around your slit before inserting a finger inside. Letting out a gasp at the foreign feeling you looked at the mirror, locking eyes with Taehyung who was looking at you with a mix of adoration and lust.

"I wish I had more time with you," inserting a second finger in you, the youngest Kim thrusts started to increase in speed.

"T-Tae," you moaned as he curled his fingers, loving the sensation of his fingers rubbing against your walls. "You're clenching around my fingers so tightly princess," you moan aloud when you felt him rubbing your clit.

When you felt close to your finish Taehyung pulled his fingers out of your sopping center, making you let out a whine at the absence, and pulled his length out of his pants, using your essence as lubricant.

"It's going to hurt a bit in the beginning," he said lining himself at your entrance. "I'm going to do my best not to hurt you."

He starts to push inside of you, the pain you felt as his cock slowly filled you until he bottom out, made you scratch the surface of the vanity, both of you letting out groans at the sensation. Taehyung's thrusts were slow but they made you feel so full, spreading kisses throughout your neck before gripping your jaw, making you face him so he could press his lips on yours.

"How do you feel?"

"I-I'm g-good," you kept letting out whimpers at the burning sensation. You were on the verge of tears due to the pain but you keep it to yourself, the pain would remind you of the short moment you spent together.

As his hips kept moving and your body was getting used to the stretch of his cock against your walls the pain started to turn into pleasure. You tossed your head back, screwing your eyes shut as you let out a mantra of his name. "T-Tae,"

"Do you want to keep going princess?"

"Y-Yes," you gasped when you felt him rubbing circles on your clit. "P-Please faster."

His thrusts started gaining momentum, the sound of skin against skin making you grow wetter. "Oh God," Taehyung's groans and your moans bouncing off the walls as both of you could feel your finish.

You were the first one to break apart, releasing all over him and his name escaping your lips one last time, grateful for the fact that he was still holding you close to him, or else your legs would've given out.

Taehyung's thrusts became rougher and faster, him jackhammering into your cunt as he chased his high. With a whiny cry of his name he spilled deep inside of you, ropes painting your walls as the both of you made eye contact through the mirror reflection and worked on regulating your breaths.

As the high felt your body the realization of your actions started to settle, and with it, came back the pain that this was the first and last time you two would be together.

Your cries were the only thing that filled the silence of the room as Taehyung pulled out of you and worked his best to fix your dress. Once sure that you looked presentable he took your face in his hands once again and pressed his lips against yours, wanting it to be memorable.

"I love you," he said pressing his head against yours, closing his eyes to try to compose himself and not let his tears fall.

"I love you too," you let out a dry chuckle. "You were right. It hurts so much more now."

With one more kiss shared Taehyung walked towards the door, pushing the door ajar, checking to see if anybody was in the hall before leaving as quietly as he had entered.

He didn't spare you a look but the sob that escaped him before the door was closed told you everything you need to know.

It wasn't long before Chaerin arrived with the other maids to add the finishing touches of the wedding dress, having to arrange your hair and makeup once more.

You kept your eyes on your reflection the entirety of the procedure, feeling so numb to everything that the scalding tea had little to no effect on you.

As the gown was settled in your head you couldn't help but think of how useless and empty life had been up until you met Taehyung, years and years of being trained to be the perfect bride and wife only for it to crumble before it even got a chance of being applied.

With a sigh, you tried to shrug off any feelings you had in order to get through the ceremony. You had long accepted the cards that had been dealt to you, now would be no different.

[jordanianroyals]

24 October 2023: Queen Rania of Jordan relayed the Arab World’s shock and disappointment at the world’s “glaring double standard” and “deafening silence” in the face of Israel’s ongoing war on the Gaza Strip, emphasizing that, despite the prevalent Western media narrative, “this conflict did not begin on October 7th.”

“Most networks are covering the story under the title of ‘Israel at War.’ But for many Palestinians on the other side of the separation wall and the barbed wire, war has never left. This is a 75-year-old story; a story of overwhelming death and displacement to the Palestinian people,” Her Majesty said. “The context of a nuclear-armed regional superpower that occupies, oppresses, and commits daily documented crimes against Palestinians is missing from the narrative.”

In a live interview with CNN’s Christiane Amanpour, conducted remotely from Queen Rania’s offices in Amman, Her Majesty explained that the people of Jordan are united in “grief, pain, and shock” in response to the staggering civilian casualties of the past 18 days of war.

“We've seen Palestinian mothers who have had to write the names of their children on their hands, because the chances of them being shelled to death – of their bodies turning into corpses – are so high,” Queen Rania said. “I just want to remind the world that Palestinian mothers love their children just as much as any other mother in the world. And for them to have to go through this, it's just unbelievable.”

Conveying Jordan’s position, Her Majesty stated that the country has been very clear that it condemns the killing of any civilian, whether Palestinian or Israeli. “That is Jordan's ethical, moral position. And it's also the position of Islam,” she said, explaining that the religion prohibits Muslims to kill a woman, child, or elderly person, to destroy a tree, or hurt a priest.

The Queen stressed that these rules of engagement should apply to all sides, arguing that Israel is committing atrocities under the guise of self-defense.

“6,000 civilians killed so far, 2,400 children – how is that self-defense? We are seeing butchery at a mass scale using precision weapons,” she said, “For the past two weeks, we have seen the indiscriminate bombardment of Gaza: entire families wiped out, residential neighborhoods flattened to the ground, the targeting of hospitals, schools, churches, mosques, medical workers, journalists, UN aid workers – how is that self defense?”

The Queen went on to state that many in the region view the Western world as complicit in this war through the support and cover that it provides Israel. “This is the first time in modern history that there is such human suffering and the world is not even calling for a ceasefire,” Her Majesty said. “Many in the Arab world are looking at the Western world as not just tolerating this, but as aiding and abetting it.”

Elaborating on the plight of Palestinian people, Her Majesty explained, “There are over 500 checkpoints scattered all over the West Bank. You have a separation wall, which is deemed illegal by the International Court of Justice, that has separated the territories into 200 disconnected enclaves. And you've seen the aggressive expansion of settlements on Palestinian land, and those have interrupted the territorial contiguity of the territories and has deemed an autonomous, independent Palestinian state not viable.”

The Queen also mentioned that Israel is in violation of no less than 30 UN Security Council resolutions, which “require it, and it alone, to act to withdraw from territories occupied in 1967, and to stop the settlements, the separation wall, and the human rights violations.” She also underscored that Israel has been designated as an “apartheid regime” by Israeli and international human rights organizations.

Commenting on military solutions to conflict, Her Majesty said: “Victory is a myth that politicians make in order to justify immense loss of life… There can never be a resolution except around the negotiating table. And there's only one path to this: a free, sovereign, and independent Palestinian state living side by side in peace and security with the state of Israel.”

The Queen also indicated that allies to Israel are doing it a disservice by giving it blind support. “Expediting and expanding the provision of lethal weapons to Israel is only going to expand this conflict. It’s only going to prolong and deepen the suffering,” she said.

Criticizing the role of the media in covering the current conflict, Queen Rania noted the double standard presented when Western interviewers demand that people representing the Palestinian side immediately issue condemnations, requiring them to “have their humanity cross-examined and present their moral credentials.”

“We don't see Israeli officials being asked to condemn, and when they are, people are readily accepted by [claiming] ‘our right to defend ourselves,’” she said. “I have never seen a Western official say the sentence: Palestinians have the right to defend themselves.”

The Queen also discussed the oppression of Palestinian expressions of solidarity in Western democracies, commenting that when people gather to support Israel, they are exercising their right to assembly, but when they gather for Palestine, they are deemed terrorist sympathizers or anti-Semitic.

“Freedom of speech is apparently a universal value, except when you mention Palestine,” Her Majesty said.

(Source: Petra)

[chocolatecoveredbrusselsprout]

Okay would LOVE to see some discourse/hear other people’s thoughts (respectfully plz no one be rude for no reason) cuz I HAVE SOME.

I have never liked the Raven Queen. The Matron of Ravens. I wanted to so badly! Her aesthetic? Iconic. The way she OUSTED the previous god of death? KILLED him? As a mortal? And she ascended to godhood? A total flex. Like damn fr. BUT

I can’t get over what she did to Vax. If she just hadn’t taken advantage of him, I could love her so much. But I can’t. My disdain has also grown the further into Campaign 3 we get and the more I read.

Some Reasons!

1. She took advantage of Vax when he was in a weak spot. He was struggling, depressed, and desperate at the sudden loss of his sister. She used this to make a deal with him.

2. She took Vax immediately after they defeated Vecna. Why could he not live out his life as her champion? (I do know that because of the Disintegrate spell, there was no body to revive him so this would kind of “go against” her rules?)

3. Why make Vax her champion? He wasn’t willing. Yes, he offered himself, but that was more so coercion. Consent should be enthusiastic! Vax’ildan was desperate and afraid to lose the ones he loved, so he made deals with a god previously unknown to him. We’ve seen that the Matron has MANY followers in Campaign 3. There were so many she could have chosen to be her champion. Who would have WANTED to be her champion. Why Vax? Are we to truly believe that in all of Exandria, no other follower of the RQ was fate-touched? (If that was her reason)

4. She also made him her *eternal* champion. (This is part especially where I’d love to hear others’ thoughts). Vax does not get to die. Not like most people. He is now stuck in that same limbo as the Raven Queen. Yes, he gets to shepherd souls to The Other Side. Purvan did. But Purvan GOT TO REST. He served his time, and then got to pass on. As of right now, Vax will never know rest, and I hate that she stole it from him. If Vax has died-died, eventually he would be reunited with his loved ones in the afterlife. Now, when they die, they’ll see him, but only briefly as he must go back to his ETERNAL DUTY. May I remind you that he did not ask for that position?

Also, doesn’t that kind of contradict her whole “death is a part of life” thing, having an eternal champion? Yes, Vax is now a celestial and he did “die,” but he never passes on to the afterlife. Some blurry lines there.

5. The Matron has punished Vax for visiting/“interfering” with his loved ones. In latest 4-sided dive, Matt clarified that the first attack on Zephrah/Keyleth, Vax showed up and saved her (that’s how Otohan knew he would come again). Matt continued that his actions were technically against the RQ’s commands, and that she punished him for it (we don’t know how). Now, Vax’ildan is stuck in a painful orb as a lens, and she has done nothing to help.

So that’s all I have at the moment. What do y’all think? Please share your thoughts or tag me in stuff cuz I want to read more on it. It continually bugs me that the Matron was lonely in her task (fair) and that she may have not realized that before ascending, but that does not mean that she should force Vax to the same fate/keep him to herself.

(Also, I think Gargo/Shithead may have been her animal companion? That will be another post though)

[theobjectofyourire]

"I need Rhaenyra."

"Daemon." His brother's voice is wearied and wrought with frailty. He looks an old man as much as he sounds. The crown weighs heavy atop his head, his silver hair faded to little more than wisps, a faint remembrance of their great ancestry. The sight stirs something of a sympathy, mayhaps a pity within Daemon, as well as the first whispers of grief. Viserys will not long live, and the Prince would weep for that loss were it strong enough to quell his rage.

"I know we've had our differences," his brother says softly, "but let them pass with the years."

What kind words, and so easily spoken by the feeble ghost of the man before him. The King knows his death is nearing, and this is no more than a desperate ploy to earn some forgiveness before he reaches his grave. Daemon isn't of a mind to grant him such peace. Not after the banishments. Not after the offenses. Not after Rhaenyra.

Not after Rhaenyra.

His brother's words are a sharp reminder. Years. Years have passed, though he's hardly to know it. Time has been uncertain for the Rogue Prince, with many a year feeling a month, and the midnight hour often disguising itself as a lifetime. It is only by sparing a glance at the princess, his princess that he can truly be sure.

She is now a queen in her own right. His heart cannot but swell with pride to see her carry herself with such regality, a self-assuredness accompanying her every step and yet not in the slightest diminishing her ferocity. She is the blood of the dragon, the blood of Old Valyria, a goddess reborn to take what is hers. A goddess he would gladly worship.

There was a time he would not wait to be given the chance, but take it, as he did those years ago during their adventures in the heart of King's Landing, but seeing her now, he cannot bring himself to do it. He wonders if her life is better for his absence. He would hope so, if not for his own selfish desires.

His brother's voice pulls him from his thoughts, away from the sight of his niece. "There's a place for you in my court," Viserys says, "if that's something you should need."

Daemon seethes, his lips forming the words before he can think to stop them. "I need Rh..."

He stops.

He shouldn't say it.

To the Seven Hells with shouldn't, he can't say it.

He can't bear to say it. There's too much truth in it. He needs her.

He's always needed her.

"...nothing," he grimaces. Unable to stomach meeting his brother's eyes, he forces his gaze down to the rough cracks in the stone. Nothing.

Nothing. The word tastes a lie, and an unconvincing one, at best. She envelops every thought, fleeting or otherwise, that finds its way through the labyrinth of his mind. His heart is hers, entirely, and it's only now that he understands the emptiness that permeated his life these last ten years.

"I want Rhaenyra," he had told his brother, knife at his throat. He remembers looking at the blade and thinking that death would be preferable to losing her, and yet he still considered it wanting. He had never thought himself naïve, but what other word spoke such truth?

His hand on the hilt of Dark Sister, ever the calming influence, he forces himself away from his brother, refusing to so much as glance at his would-be queen.

"I'm sorry for your loss, my prince." Otto's voice stops him dead in his tracks. Dark Sister calls to him, and though the temptation is difficult to resist, he manages.

"No matter how fat the leech grows," Daemon sneers, "it always wants for another meal."

He wonders, as he walks away, if it was the right course. Any of it. If he should have slain Otto Hightower where he stood. If he should have forced his brother's hand and taken Rhaenyra to wife all those years ago. If he should have done as she asked at her wedding feast and cut through her father's kingsguard.

"Take me to Dragonstone and make me your wife," she had said, venom in her words and something else he could not quite place. At the time, he thought she was merely tormenting him, taunting him with all he could not have. Now, he cannot but wonder if she desired him as much as he did her. If it was not a mockery, but a genuine plea, an admission of her deepest desires.

What life might have been had he only obliged.

As he wanders the beach, somewhat melancholy under the light of the emerging moon, he is vaguely aware of gentle footsteps behind him. There's no need to look. He felt Rhaenyra's eyes on him. He felt her yearning. It mirrored his own.

He does not know what this night will bring. But if the Gods are good, they will never again threaten to tear them asunder.